Grit and Pomegranate
by Therightshadeofblue
Summary: The Medjai find a young English doctor wandering the desert shortly after the end of WWI in 1918. She is witty & smart, talented in surgery. After helping the Medjai she must make the choice to stay in Egypt where her talents are treasured or return home to England, to a community that does not respect her for her gender. But perhaps she might have another reason to stay. Ardeth/OC
1. Chapter 1

Sahara Desert

1918

Twenty-four year old field doctor from London, England; Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore had entered the war in 1914, bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the beginning. But now the war was over, finally after four years of fighting, blood, carnage, and confusion it had ended on a dry and smoldering evening in Ghana for Elizabeth. And now she was nothing if not exhausted.

The day the war had ended Elizabeth remembered the men and the nurses cheering and hugging one another all around her. Kisses and laughter filled the air in the tents as she watched idly by, celebrating internally for herself.

Of course Elizabeth was happy as well, why wouldn't she be? No more death, no more bodies for her to mend, to piece back together—but she would miss this land, Africa—Egypt and the desert most of all.

The desert to her was cleansing, calming. She felt as though she had truly found herself here with the sand in her shoes, the sun beating down, tanning her skin—educating her on a heat she never knew existed. The air was palpable and true. In England, the air was dull and wet almost all of the time. Muted and lifeless. All emotion washed away by the constant precipitation.

All throughout medical school in Cambridge Elizabeth dreamed of leaving and using her skills where they would be needed and respected. Not that she had wanted a war to sprout between several countries, but she would be daft to say she wasn't excited when she volunteered after graduation and the Royal Military sent her off to Africa with the 106th Division. She had learned more in the front lines of war than she had her entire academic career. Something she was not surprised by but thankful nonetheless. And now she was in a position to bring that surgical knowledge and experience back with her to England.

But how on earth could she begin to explain her experience here? It was hell, pure hell. But some how in all this she found herself, plus heartache and loss like she had never known.

Elizabeth's father, Earnest Whitmore—a veteran himself, often told her war was child's play and we were all pawns in it. That it was all merely a game and you just had to play it right. But she figured he'd never been in a war of quite this magnitude and that sentiment alone underestimated the lengths at which man would go to conquer. Lengths she wore in the form of shrapnel scares on her back, blocking debris from her patients as she operated, jutting bones and severe weight loss from offering her rations to wounded soldiers. Wounds she wasn't expecting to bare physically, in addition to mental wounds she feared would never heal.

The thought alone was enough to heave a heavy sigh from deep within her stomach. Even now, wandering aimlessly through the desert, she did not know when she would return to England but the thought still plagued her.

Walking beside Elizabeth was her young assistant Archie, from Wales. He looked over at her sigh and narrowed his brow but chose to ignore it based on apathy and exhaustion.

Elizabeth continued to look out into the dark horizon, the glistening stars, and wondered what will become of her. Abandoned in the desert.

* * *

That evening, when word of the end had arrived in West Africa, the German general had issued a final surprise attack on the Americans and invaded the base of the celebrating, unguarded 106th. Hundreds of British troops were slaughtered and bombed, while others tried their best to fight back.

Elizabeth and Archie barely got out with their lives, watching each others backs as the sounds of gun shots were mute to the ear with each step further away. They walked through the night into the morning, Elizabeth knew they had to make it to Cairo no matter how far. They would be safe in Cairo and could share word of the surprise attack with the right people.

But as the sun dwindled down she felt tired, hungry and thirsty. It was weighing on her stamina. There was nothing but desert ahead of them, only the sun as their guide. The two had managed to pack up and bring along most of the medical equipment, or at least what they could stand to carry on their backs. A lot of good syringes and gauze does to hunger and dehydration, Elizabeth laughed to herself.

"What you laughin' at, you nutter?" Archie looked at her like she was crazy.

"I was just thinking a lot good this medical equipment will do if we starve to death." Elizabeth chuckled again and Archie just shook his head.

"Unbelievably morbid, you are." He mumbled to himself and continued walking. They could just see the tip top of the sun above the horizon at this point, a full day now they'd been walking and found nothing. Just barren desert.

Elizabeth watched the horizon still as Archie paused for a breath in the sand.

This land was so beautiful, she thought to herself. Over and over again this thought invaded her mind. And it truly kept her sane. Looking out into the vast sand dunes, watching the top layer twist around in the wind, she felt whole.

The sun was slowly rising as she stood still to watch it. A yawn escaped her and briefly her eyes shut. When they opened, however, Elizabeth noticed something far in the distance she had not noticed before.

Suddenly the land began to shift, a hazy mist came over everything and out of nothing— stone formations began to appear.

"Archie?" Elizabeth questioned, staring off into the glowing magical distance.

Archie had his eyes closed as he leaned back against his pack. "Hmm?"

"Archie get up." She commanded softly. The lazy nurse suddenly opened his eyes, he looked at her for a moment then shifted his gaze to the direction she faced. Slowly he stood, eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

"Say, that wasn't there just a moment ago was it?"

"It—it had to've been there, we just mustn't have seen it…" Slowly Elizabeth began to walk toward it, transfixed. Archie fumbled as he stood.

"Doctor…" he slipped his pack on and rushed to meet up with her. "Doctor Whitmore, do you think that's the brightest idea? We should just keep going North toward Cairo."

Archie continued to call after her but she was drawn to the space, the structures. It looked like a metropolis at some point. The ruins of a once ornate city. Large statues of Egyptian gods, hieroglyphics on the walls and columns.

"Archie can you believe this place?" Elizabeth asked, wandering around a large statue of Anubis—she believed was the correct name. The sun was now harsh and a deep red as it cast shadows over the entire city.

"Can we leave, Doctor Whitmore? This place gives me the heebies." Archie shuddered as he watched her walk around in awe.

"This is incredible. I wonder why it's abandoned…it seems like this place should be full of archeologist and explore—oh…" Elizabeth paused mid sentence.

Archie narrowed his brow and walked behind the statue and was confronted by six men holding guns toward Elizabeth.

"What the—"

"Archie." She commanded, in a tone he knew only from the front—when she was adamant that he hear her and he hear her well. Archie slowly put his arms up, mirroring Elizabeth as one of the men began to speak in Arabic.

Elizabeth struggled to understand what the man was saying; outside of the thick black robes they all wore, matching face tattoos she was wholeheartedly overwhelmed. The man spoke so fast and the only words she could make out were "death" and something about "hams"? No, that couldn't be right, she thought. The man continued, edging closer to them. Elizabeth had to think of a quick way out of this.

"Please, please we are merely traveling to Cairo. We mean you no harm, I promise!" She pleaded calmly but adamantly. "We're from the British Army."

The men raised the guns higher at those words and she backed up, bumping into Archie.

"Elizabeth they think we're soldiers."

"No no, please, I'm a doctor. We have no weapons." Elizabeth thought hard and thought it couldn't hurt to try to speak Arabic, though she was terrible she knew one word down exactly, she slowly pressed her palm to her chest and said, **_"Doctor."_**

Suddenly the men halted and lowered their weapons. The man in the middle repeated the word back to her in a question. She nodded and elbowed Archie who in turned nodded vigorously.

Then a word from the man's mouth caught her off guard, and gave her a jolt in the pit of her stomach. A jolt of electricity.

**"_Help_." **

"You, you need help? Yes, I can help you. **_Yes_.**" She nodded anxiously and one of the men grabbed her and Archie by the arms and led them behind a large structure to a line of horses.

"My god, Doctor Whitmore, what have you gotten us into?" Archie questioned as they were led back in the direction they came from.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth chafed at the tight hand that gripped her arm, dragging her quicker than her feet could keep up. She struggled but managed to stay beside the man who directed her desperately through a line of tents to a large one set next to more ruins. Outside the entrance, two flaps swayed in the wind and she heard the familiar sounds of moaning and crying in pain. Immediately Elizabeth into the tent out of pure instinct upon hearing a cry of pain.

Archie hesitantly followed.

Inside the tent through hazy light she saw two older women around a man on a cot who was clutching his side and howling in pain. She knelt down next to him and tried to asses the situation. The two women had wet compresses of linen on his forehead that was sweating like a waterfall. Slowly she got the women's attention and repeated the word.

**"_Doctor_." **The women gasped and moved out of her way. Gently she wrapped her hand around the man's wrist to move his hand away from his side. There was blood, a lot of it. But nothing she was not used to. Quickly she grabbed one of the linen swabs and cleaned off the blood.

"It looks fresh, Arch, we're lucky."

"Yeah—lucky." He muttered and tossed his bag on the ground. The man moaned and breathed heavily, each breath becoming more strained. "What are you going to do doctor?"

Elizabeth continued to clean off the wound when she sighed. "Gunshot, bullet is still in, just about three quarters of an inch deep. It might need to be removed to prevent further lacer—"

**"_What is this_?"** A tall man appeared in the tent, a voice that boomed and was soaked in authority. The man that brought her began to speak to him rapidly and then the tall man looked at Elizabeth. She felt small under his gaze. "Is this true, can you help him?" He spoke in easy English and she almost laughed. Thank god someone around here spoke English, her Arabic had about run its course.

"Yes, I can try." She spoke honestly.

"Then you may proceed." She nodded and got back to work.

"Archie I need a milliliter of morphine in his arm right now." Elizabeth spoke as she dug in her bag for tweezers and a scalpel. "The bullet is just barely in but at an angle that could cause further damage." She spoke to Archie but often he noticed she had a habit of speaking her thoughts aloud while she worked, as though she was reassuring herself of her decisions.

"Yes, Doctor." Archie prepared the morphine as Elizabeth continued to press on the wound. The man groaned out and wiggled at the pressure.

"What is his name?" She asked the tall man who spoke English.

"Abdal." He said simply and continued to watch her intently from across the bed.

"Abdal, look at me darling." Elizabeth sat up on the cot and brushed his long hair out of his face, he calmed at her voice almost immediately and looked at her with deep, dark eyes. "I'm going to help you get better—Archie now—and in just a moment you won't feel a thing, darling."

"Morphine administered." Archie spoke as Elizabeth lifted the linen from the wound.

"Blood's clotting, scalpel." Archie handed her the scalpel and she quickly but accurately cut into the man's skin. "Tweezers." She twisted slowly, this was always the tricky part. Removing the bullet could either fix the problem, or make it worse. Elizabeth had encountered both.

Slowly she sucked in a breath, held it in, and let it go. She twisted again. Then gently, and she thanked the heavens, she felt the bullet give.

"Have you got it?"

"Yes." She breathed out, slowly twisting the bullet from the man's stomach. She dropped the thick pellet into some gauze Archie had prepared. After looking at it Elizabeth paused.

"Doctor, I think that's only half a bullet."

"Shit." Elizabeth's insides shrunk and she felt like she was about to explode but she had to stay calm.

"What is happening, what does that mean?" The man questioned her as she dug through her medical kit.

"That means there's more of the bullet in there and if we don't get it out it'll probably kill him. Iodine." She went from speaking to the man to ordering Archie who had the swab in her hand immediately. "Forceps." Quickly Elizabeth opened the wound up and looked in for moment, before using the tweezers once more. "It's shrapnel, three pieces."

The man looked at her with wonder as she worked, and because she was a professional she attempted to ignore it. The man on the cot was out cold but steadily breathing. Elizabeth removed one piece. Then another.

"One more, Doctor?"

"One more…" she held her breath as she pulled it out slowly and dropped it into the gauze. "Needle and stitching."

Steadily, and with ease Elizabeth began to stitch the wound back up. If she was being honest this was her favorite part of the surgical process on the front, it was like wrapping a present. It was ending, it was fixed. She knotted off the end of the stitch and breathed out.

If she had been asked to remove a bullet and shrapnel from a man's stomach before the war she would have fainted at the thought. But now she could do this in her sleep. She just had to breathe through it and take it step by step.

Elizabeth cleaned off her hands as Archie bandaged the wound with gauze. Slowly she fell back onto the ground and rested her elbows on her knees and rubbed her eyes of tire.

"Doctor Whitmore I think you need to rest." Archie said quietly, cleaning off the forceps.

"I will be fine, Archie."

"Elizabeth, we've been meandering this desert for two days, no food or water, god forbid another surgery—"

"Archie." Elizabeth commanded and he shut up.

"Will he survive?" The tall man asked her.

"I've done what I can, he must rest, keep the wound elevated and clean. Then he will survive." She spoke slowly, her eyes fluttering. The man walked over to her and held out a hand.

"Good. Please, follow me." The man led her out of the tent into the blistering morning sun. It was then she could fully asses the tall man who seemed to be in charge.

To Elizabeth, at five foot, three inches he towered over her, with long dark brown hair and matching eyes. Identical facial tattoos as the rest of this seemingly tribe of people all had. She wondered who they were, but then in this moment she only wanted to close her eyes. Her wonder could wait.

"Thank you, Doctor. I don't know how I could possibly repay you." The man said.

"A bed perhaps, for myself and my assistant. Food or water if you have it and direction to Cairo."

The man nodded, "Of course you may have whatever you need. I must ask, how did you end up in Hamunaptra?"

"Hamunaptra?" She repeated and realized that was what she had heard the man say earlier amongst those strange ruins. "We had gotten word that the war had ended while we were in Ghana but our base was attacked by the Germans, Archie and myself barely got out. Now we're trying to make our way to Cairo alone to return…home." As she spoke she felt the words odd in her mouth. 'Home' was as foreign a word to her as this land. Though in this instance this land felt more like home than England, for Great Britain seemed trivial in comparison to the land they stood upon.

"And you just stumbled upon this place?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" She chuckled gently and in turn the man released a soft grin.

"Yes, I believe I must take you on your word." By god, Elizabeth suddenly felt like she was hit with a damn wall. Or crushed more like it. However brief it was that grin ignited within her something she hadn't felt in a long while. A heavy, flapping gargle in the pit of her stomach lurched up through her throat and out came a soft smile.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the eye contact, the towering gentleman in front of her with skin the color of the sand—but she felt it. Felt him. Pure, unfiltered, attraction.

* * *

_Please let me know what you think!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Oh my goodness thank you all so much for reviewing, favoriting, and following my story! Please continue to let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy. **_

* * *

Elizabeth woke up quickly to what she thought was the sound of gunshots. Her heart beat out of her chest and a thin layer of sweat coated her neck. Silently she listened for more gunshots but there was nothing. Only the soft sound of the wind whistling, and Archie's snoring from across the tent. A nightmare, must have been. She'd had them every night, and she knew they would happen. Nightmares were inevitable in war.

A shiver ran up Elizabeth's spine. She wrapped the thin linen blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the fresh air. She sucked in a breath and could taste the sand and the grit in the air and felt all at once at peace and perfect quietness. A calm Elizabeth was all too fond of, and would miss when she left this place.

The gentle crackle of a fire and the smell of burning wood was suddenly picked up by the wind and she stepped toward it, her bare feet sifting through the loose top layer of sand. When she reached the fire she saw a single familiar face, the tall man she had met earlier, sitting alone—a distant and deep look upon his brow as he stared into the flickering flames.

"You did not sleep long." He said, taking her slightly off guard. She hadn't realized he noticed her.

"Yes, well, I've never been a heavy sleeper. Even before the war." Elizabeth spoke softly and the man nodded.

"A good trait to have for a doctor to have, I am sure."

"Do you mind if I join you?" The man shook his head and Elizabeth sat by him, close to the warmth of the fire. Egypt was warm during the day, certainly, but in the evenings a bitter cold was carried by the winds. Not that she minded, it did often remind her of home.

"You rested well, I assume."

Elizabeth thought about it and nodded slowly, "Better than I have in a long while. Thank you again."

"Of course, because of you Abdal will live and continue to aid our tribe." The man said and Elizabeth looked at him for a brief moment and turned over what he had said in her head. Their tribe…

"Could I…could I perhaps ask you a few questions?" She asked and the man smiled then, as though he was expecting them.

"Certainly."

Elizabeth looked again into the flames, "I suppose my first question is: who on Earth are you?" She asked with a smirk on her face.

The man released another gut wrenching grin, "I am Ardeth Bay, chieftain of the Medjai."

"The Medjai?" A pause, had she heard that word before? It seemed familiar.

"We are a sacred tribe sworn to protect and defend the city of the dead, Hamunaptra."

"I see." Elizabeth pondered the words and struggled to wrap her mind around them.

"Normally I would not disclose such information…But given what you've done for us I believe you deserve to know. We not only protect the city from exploration, but we stop the High Priest Imhotep from rising from the dead and destroying the world as we know it." Ardeth continued and her puzzled expression only deepened.

"That is…hmm." She huffed in a considerable way and stared at the fire. She attempted to wrap her head around the words she just heard but struggled.

"You don't believe it?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "I never said that." She then adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and sat up straight. "I've only really known war. Great Britain declared war on Germany the day after I completed my medical training, and I was shipped here not a week later. Four years of war and little else, nothing takes you by surprise. And I commend you on your success, upon the assumption the world has not ended I have you to thank."

Ardeth nodded and watched her with a careful eye. "It is my life's vow, I do not need praise."

"Well I offer it nonetheless. Take it or leave it." Elizabeth sunk her toes in the sand and looked up into the sky. Thousands of stars dotted the inky blackness and she sighed. "You must love it here, to devote your entire life to living out here in the desert, protecting it and all it's treasures."

"It is in my blood."

"But you love it." Elizabeth spoke not as a question. A statement of pure truth. Ardeth smiled gently and nodded.

"I could never live anywhere else." He said honestly and with finality. Elizabeth felt a kinship between them form, if only a minor one, in that moment-with those words. She felt she could never live anywhere else but here. She didn't know if she'd be able to return to England in this condition, or continue about the daily upper-middle class way of life in which she had grown up in. The sand washes away all of that, to her at least. There is nothing here but sand and bodies-living and breathing. There were expectations and ridicule in England.

Elizabeth sighed, pushing thoughts of England out of her head. She did not need to think of such things just yet. At least, not right now.

"At first I hated it here." Elizabeth spoke, "But now, I can't even imagine life in England again, it makes me sick just thinking about it."

"And your assistant?"

"Archie? Little bugger can't wait to get out of here. But he's young and hasn't been here as long as I have."

"Doctor, may I ask you a few questions of my own?"

"Only if you drop the 'Doctor' and call me Elizabeth."

Ardeth smiled softly, "What is it that makes you so hesitant to go back to where you are from, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth drew soft designs into the sand and took a moment before she answered. "I don't quite have an answer for that, honestly. At least not a specific one. I just know that I will miss it here. And I know that things will be different in England."

"How so?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "You remember earlier today, when you trusted me to save your friend? That trust in women does not exist in England."

"What effect does being a woman have upon your skill to save lives?"

"In England, everything." She chuckled. "I had to fight tooth and nail just to get into Cambridge, and my entire time there I was belittled and underestimated because I was not a man."

"Then England must not be as advanced a society than I had thought. To reject a person's skill based off of ones gender. If it means anything, you have my most honored and devoted trust."

"Thank you, Ardeth." Elizabeth nearly blushed at his words. "It is that mindset that makes it difficult to leave this place. I feel trusted and at home here."

"Then why do you not stay?"

Elizabeth chuckled, "I do not have a home here. I can't exactly live here in the desert…I suppose it is possible, just not plausible…long term."

"So you will return despite your desire to stay?"

Elizabeth chuckled. "Yes I suppose it does sound silly. But I feel responsible. I haven't seen my father or brother in ages, I am not even sure they know I am still alive. So, that is what I am trying to focus on."

"You value family."

"Above all else." They connected eyes then for the first time, and Elizabeth's heart fumbled and her stomach flipped. All she felt was the wind on her cheeks. In that moment she felt something more than attraction to this man, something deeper. Though she did not know what. She did not know this man but his kindness and earnest nature pulled her further into fascination.

A silence overcame them, a comfortable and stilled silence. The rest of the night was filled with gentle conversation, Ardeth telling her more about Imhotep and Hamunaptra and the history around it all. And she listened intently, never before had she realized myths and legends like this really existed. And if she ever had any doubts before, none were existent now.

As she bid Ardeth a farewell, turning at the opening of her tent to see him still sitting solemnly and pensive by the fire she smiled. For he was a true and honest man, and quite the storyteller in his own right. The type of man her father told her didn't exist anymore.

When she entered the tent the sun was barely rising and she laid down to get another hour or two of rest before she would check on Abdal's stitches.


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth woke to a dry heat and shuffling around the tent. Her eyes fluttered open, but struggled to stay there. She saw flashes of Archie packing up his bag.

"Archie?" She muttered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving, what does it look like?"

"Why are you leaving? Just calm down a minute." She sat up slowly. Archie stopped what he was doing to faced her.

"We don't belong here Doctor Whitmore. I asked that fella who spoke English and he said Cairo is half a days walk from here. So I am leaving. Will you be joining me?"

Elizabeth, still sleepy-eyed and taken aback shook her head slowly, almost instinctively before she could even process a thought.

"I can't go back just yet. I…have to check in on Abdal, make sure he's healing correctly."

Archie slung the pack around his shoulders, "You're on your own then, Doctor Whitmore. I need to go home."

"Very well then, Archie. Good luck."

"Good luck to you as well, Elizabeth." With that he rushed out of the tent and Elizabeth sighed as she fell back onto the cot.

"Typical." She said to herself as she looked up at the tilted tent ceiling.

* * *

Elizabeth exited the tent just in time to see Archie's silhouette fade into the distance.

"Impatient child." She muttered to herself as she made her way to Abdal's tent. When she entered she spotted Ardeth at his bedside. "Good morning." She said softly. The mysterious man in turn only nodded.

Elizabeth sat on the bed next to Abdal who's breath was shallow but he was still sound asleep, a calm look set on his face. She checked his bandages and nodded, humming to herself.

"Still good for now, we'll need to change those in a day probably." Elizabeth spoke to herself quietly. Ardeth watched as she grabbed his wrist to check his pulse, her eyes on her watch.

"Pulse is good," she muttered to herself. She checked his pupils and nodded, humming. Then she turned to Ardeth. "Abdal is doing very well, I will need to change the bandages either later today or tomorrow though, so we don't encourage dry heat can be a toss up sometimes."

Ardeth nodded, but he paused—almost looking hesitant to speak. "Will you not be leaving with your assistant?"

Elizabeth looked at him once more and shook her head. "I will leave when Abdal can walk again, he is my patient—therefore my responsibility. Once he is better then that is when I shall leave. If that is alright with you, of course."

Ardeth smiled curiously at her and nodded in return. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"No praise needed. It is my vow." She repeated his own words back to him and for a moment Elizabeth felt equal to this man in high power. Ardeth looked upon her with an expression she recognized only as thankfulness. Elizabeth had seen the look many times before in the faces of soldiers and families. But in Ardeth it seemed most genuine. Most…pure.

In this moment the sun shined in through the small holes in the fabric of the tent onto Ardeth's face; his deep, dark eyes illuminated. A hazy dust filled the air.

"You care for him, don't you?" Elizabeth asked but knew the answer already.

"Abdal is a childhood friend. And despite his lack of caution I do care for him."

"He is in good hands." She assured him.

"I have no doubts."

Elizabeth smiled. "Good."

And so Elizabeth decided to stay, for however long it took for Abdal to heal fully. For the good of the tribe.

* * *

Most days, as the sun would set Elizabeth would turn in for sleep and would wake within a couple hours. Then she would leave the tent and find Ardeth, usually around a fire—contemplating the future and often the past. Most of the time was spent quiet, next to one another in equal reverie.

One evening they watched the sun set together. The harsh reds turned to pink and blush, then faded into purple and blue and finally black. Elizabeth sighed happily. After a moment the wind picked up a scent from Ardeth that made her senses run wild.

Constantly over the last week she felt a pull toward him, based on attraction but also a comfort. She felt so very comfortable around him—like she was at home, a new home. With him. A person as a home, could it even be possible?

"Muthir." She heard Ardeth mutter, watching the same sunset as her, pulling her away from her thoughts.

"What does that mean?"

"Breath-taking." He said after a moment of hesitation and Elizabeth nodded.

"I agree." She responded and looked back into the horizon. "Ardeth?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could help me with my Arabic?" He turned his full attention toward her in that moment.

"Of course." Elizabeth smiled brightly at his words.

From that moment Ardeth taught her several different words a day. The first day was "health" and "sunset." The second was "yes" and "no" and "hello" and "goodbye."

* * *

_**Here's a short one for you! Sorry I have been away for so long, but I do certainly hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you those who have reviewed, here's a longer chapter for you all. Please let me know what you think! I love to hear your thoughts!**_

* * *

Elizabeth was humming to Abdal who's eyes kept fluttering open and closed. It was a struggle to keep her own eyes open in turn.

It was also an abnormal day for the weather here in the Sahara, it was colder. And quieter. Most of the tribe had been taking shifts in the city of the dead, heeding word from an informant in Cairo that a gang of thieves were on their way to Hamunaptra.

Slowly she dabbed a cloth on Abdal's forehead and continued to hum as she got lost in thought. She hoped the tribe was safe in their battle to protect the High Priest from becoming reborn. Or at least protecting his location from being discovered. Elizabeth laughed to herself then, how silly and strange this all was. Just two weeks ago she was worried about rations and Germans, and now she was worried about undead mummies, treasure hunters, and men she didn't even know.

_You're being a dumbass, Lizzy. _She could hear her father tell her. Having an American father while growing up in England was never a low point in her opinion, despite the gossip and words from her late mother's acquaintances and neighbors. They all thought of him as brute and unforgiving and aggressive—and indeed these things were all true, but when mixed with his tenderness, intelligence, and wit—it made for the perfect father to raise two unruly and too-smart-for-their-own-good children like Elizabeth and her brother, Charlie.

Elizabeth sighed then, and pushed the pain of longing back. She did truly miss them. But she will see them in due time. And the wait will only be more worth it.

Abdal mumbled and she brush some hair behind his ear. She was caring for a man she didn't know, with all her energy, because that's what she did. Elizabeth felt no purpose other than to take care of fellow humans in need. She was good at it, that she knew. Her father would be proud. And indeed, when she let herself think about her—her mother would be just as proud and honored.

A rustle at the entrance of the tent brought her attention from the sleeping man.

"Hello, Ardeth."

"Good afternoon Elizabeth. How is Abdal?"

"Very well, even just tried to speak to me through his dreams." She smirked, "His fever has broken thanks to this cool day we're having."

"Very good." Ardeth paused, sitting next to the bed. "What was that song you were humming?"

Elizabeth pushed back a blush, "It's a song my mother used to sing to me. It's called Greensleeves, typically it is sang at Christmastime but I've always found the melody…calming." She brushed the cloth across his forehead once more, and looked up at Ardeth, "How is the city?"

"Undisturbed for now. I was about to head off there for the evening in fact…I wanted to see if you wished to join me."

"Yes." Elizabeth said far too eagerly. Ardeth in response chuckled. "Sorry, just feeling a bit cooped up here at camp."

"I completely understand. We will head out once you are ready."

* * *

Elizabeth approached Ardeth who was packing the saddle bags of a horse a short while later, excitement swelling up in her. Then she paused when she saw two horses.

"Are you ready, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Um, yes...however I feel I must be honest—I don't know how to ride a horse and I am somewhat terrified of the idea."

Ardeth looked at her like she was partially insane. "You can save hundreds of men in war but cannot ride a horse?"

Elizabeth held in a snort but smiled sheepishly.

"_**Yes**_?" Speaking in Arabic just like he had taught her.

"We don't have enough time for me to teach you today." He slung his leg over his own horse, "So you may ride on the back of mine until I can teach you properly."

Elizabeth started at his outstretched hand with hesitation but took it, trusting this man with her life. She settled on the back of the saddle, her entire front pressed against Ardeth's back and immediately she became nervous. No, not because of the horse, not now. But because she was touching him, fully with her body.

"Hold onto me." He muttered, adjusting the reins.

"Excuse me?" She said in a huff, already overwhelmed.

"Hold onto me unless you want to fall off the back."

"Oh yes, right." Slowly she wrapped her hands around Ardeth's waist and not a second later they were off. She gripped tighter for fear she would fall but eventually after several minutes got used to the bumps and the speed and loosened.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes I think so."

"Good." Was all he said before he turned his attention ahead toward Hamunaptra.

On the way to the city Ardeth spoke of the history and the image of it all. How grand and expansive it all was. Elizabeth found it endearing the way he spoke of just as though he was there, as if he were recalling it by memory.

"Just imagine everything golden, as far as you can see." He said, guiding his stallion through the ruins. Elizabeth's mind was still fuzzy from her proximity. The touch felt intimate to her, as she questioned whether Ardeth was just as anxious.

"I'm sure it was beautiful here." She responded softly at his ear, looking ahead over his shoulder. After a moment they stopped and Ardeth dismounted first, to then hold a hand out to her. "And as beautiful as it was back then I do believe it still holds a certain beauty."

Ardeth helped her dismount the horse and steadied her posture. Her mind was returning to her slowly.

"You believe so?"

"How could ruins not be beautiful? Age is beautiful even in structures." She spoke, her hand raising to block the evening sun from her eyes. They began to walk then slowly through the city.

"I suppose you are right, in some ways."

"Only some ways? I believe age is beautiful in every form. Age is power." Elizabeth spoke earnestly.

"To a doctor I can see how you would interpret age as a sense of pride and power, but to a warrior age is only weakness. The older I get I know I will become weaker, less capable of performing my duties and helping my tribe." Elizabeth watched Ardeth as he spoke and truly felt his sentiment. To him, that was true.

"Well I think to a warrior age is even more powerful, if you're willing to see that side of it. There's a dignity to it, a wiseness in elders that only they possess. Yes, your body may weaken but your mind will always strengthen." She paused and spotted a bird in the sky floating, lazily making its way through the air. "It's like love. Like the Priest and his mistress. Yes, they were indeed terrible murderers but in the right perspective you could say that their love only grew with their choices, thus strengthening."

Ardeth nodded, "Their kinship destroyed the lives of many; religion, power, riches—nothing could stop them. You could say that is strength, whether it is good or evil though, is no question."

Elizabeth sighed, unable to contain her visceral reaction. "How incredible though, to love so deeply that death cannot sway you."

"Their love was sour, deadly, and selfish." Ardeth said honestly.

"Oh, well, I do think most love is selfish." Elizabeth said in turn and the man beside her paused his thought.

"I think the opposite."

"Oh do you?" Elizabeth asked coyly.

"I do. Love is rare, but true love can truly only be found through lack of judgement, compromise, and difficult choices. Selflessness. Hardship is proof of true love—strength as you like to put it. Anuk-su-namun and Imhotep were selfish and when the situation became difficult they chose murder and weakness as a resolution."

"I agree, I think in that instance obsession might be the more correct term." Ardeth nodded at her statement. "Love is tricky, it's hard to trust people these days." Elizabeth looked around as the sunlight faded and the stars began to sparkle. Slowly she slipped her boots off and tied the laces together. She felt the sand in her toes as she swung the boots over her shoulder. Ardeth watched amused, but didn't say a word.

"My father used to say never trust anyone until they give you a reason to trust them." He said and Elizabeth smirked.

"That is quite interesting because my father used to say that the best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."

"Our elders are wise in their own ways." Ardeth said in mild amusement, referring to her previous statement.

"Do you trust _me_, Ardeth?" Elizabeth asked, pausing in their walk. Ardeth turned to her and without missing a beat answered.

"Yes, you know this." He said so simply Elizabeth was surprised.

"Are you sure?"

"I am positive."

"Good."

"Elizabeth, may I ask you a personal question?" They continued to walk.

"Yes." She stared at the ground, her feet stepping in the sand—leaving small prints compared to Ardeth's.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Elizabeth still stared at the sand and took a moment to answer, wondering silently why he ask. "I…cannot really say I have."

She hadn't lied to Ardeth up until this point, and in many ways it wasn't a lie. But that would be a story for another time. She just wanted to live in the present, feel and breathe in only what she could see. And right now, that was this mysterious, handsome man of the desert and in this moment she truly wanted nothing else.

"That is a shame." He said, glancing back behind them. A rustle caused only by the wind.

"Well, have you been in love, Ardeth Bay?"

Ardeth only smirked and she desperately wished his answer was no. Even though it was selfish, she so dearly wanted it.

"No I have not."

"That, too, is a shame then." Elizabeth said.

"The odds of finding love out here in the desert are quite slim. Rare even." Elizabeth smiled knowingly to herself as they continued to walk.

The rest of the night was filled with quiet conversation, mostly about Hamunaptra and the practices of the Medjai. It was all so very interesting to Elizabeth, a whole other world she had no clue about. It made the thought of leaving soon for England even more ridiculous.

She knew it would be soon, Abdal was healing quickly. He would be able to walk soon and then there would be no reason for her to stay. The thought alone swelled a sadness within her that she wasn't quite strong enough to admit. Not just yet.

As the signs of the sunrise came upon them Ardeth and Elizabeth were relieved by a troop of Medjai from the East. By that time she was exhausted and couldn't wait to return to her tent.

Faintly she heard them speak about the possible threat, and to send word if anything were to happen.

Elizabeth slipped her arms around Ardeth's waist as they rode off, now unashamed by how this made her feel—more tired than anything else. Slowly her head fell onto his back a she drifted asleep between his shoulder blades.

What Elizabeth failed to see was Ardeth's smile and contented sigh upon feeling her body against his.

* * *

"Elizabeth?" She faintly heard ahead of her, then a hand fell on top of hers. "Elizabeth, are you awake?"

"Hmm..." she mumbled, slowly opening her eyes.

"Look to the east. The sun is rising."

Then she opened her eyes fully, the bright sun peeking out just over the horizon.

"Oh, it's beautiful." Deep, rich pinks and oranges. A hazy wind took clouds across the sky. Elizabeth sighed out happily and returned her sleepy head to Ardeth's back where she slowly closed her eyes once. "Beautiful." She muttered as she drifted back off, not before feeling Ardeth's hand return to hers, securing her arms tightly around his waist.


	6. Chapter 6

When the two reached camp the sun was shining brightly and a mellow heat sifted the air. Ardeth dismounted the horse first and held his hand out for Elizabeth who clumsily dismounted suit. He helped her stand up straight and smiled at her sleepiness.

"Will you be alright to make it to your tent, or shall I carry you?"

"Was that a joke, Mr. Bay?" Elizabeth said tiredly, smiling lazily.

"I did intend it as humor, yes, but if you do need assistance I am at your service." Elizabeth chuckled at his words and the serious expression on his brow.

"I think I can make it the two meters to my tent, but thank yo—"

The sounds of rapid horse hooves paused Elizabeth mid-sentence. A Medjai soldier raced into the camp and skit to a halt in front of Ardeth. They spoke in Arabic rapidly.

"What is it?" She asked Ardeth who climbed back onto his horse. "Ardeth?"

"The French have invaded Hamunaptra, our Eastern forces need our assistance." He spoke quickly, already mentally switching to combat mode.

"Let me come." Ardeth looked at her like she had grown an additional head.

"Absolutely not." He started but she jumped in front of the horse.

"I am an Army Doctor, I was trained for the field. Let me come help you."

Ardeth grit his teeth but reluctantly nodded.

"I need to grab my medical bag and I'll be back."

"Hurry."

Elizabeth ran to Abdal's tent and packed her bag as quickly as possible. Then she shot out and back to Ardeth in a flash. She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up to the saddle.

Then as quickly as they had arrived they shot off with a troop of Medjai to Hamunaptra.

* * *

Elizabeth felt the adrenalin rush hit her like a bucket of ice water, the air in her face bit her cheeks as Ardeth and the others rode as quickly as they could to the City of the Dead.

When they arrived Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat at the sight of another battle. Quickly she jumped off without stumble when she saw a Medjai warrior laying on the ground clutching his arm.

Elizabeth felt a hand wrap around her wrist. She turned to see Ardeth, who searched her eyes for any sign of fear or hesitance but she showed none.

"Be careful, Elizabeth." She moved her hand to clutch his own wrist and she nodded.

"You as well, Ardeth." She watched as he quickly unraveled his turban and wrapped it around her neck like a scarf.

"So they know who you are." Elizabeth nodded again, ignoring the overwhelming presence of his scent on her. Ardeth unsheathed his sword and climbed back on his horse.

When he left Elizabeth shot off to the first man she saw leaning against a barricade of ruins. He showed her the wound and it was just a graze, a deep one, but a graze nonetheless.

Quickly she cleaned the blood and wrapped gauze tightly around his arm. He saluted her and ran straight back into battle.

Then began back and forth for the next thirty minutes; she would quickly clean and wrap a wound and send them back off. She couldn't find Ardeth to see if he was safe, and that was all she was concerned about. But she had to focus, and focus she did.

She had removed two bullets, stitched and kept them back from the battle, despite their frustration.

Elizabeth was currently arguing with one stubborn gentleman in particular with what little Arabic she knew at this point.

"I do not care if you need to fight! You are shot! **_Injured! Can't you see?_**" She argued with the man, pointing to his side where the bullet had just been—though it was like fighting with a child who did not speak English. Suddenly the man's eyes widened as he looked behind her, quickly he pushed his gun in her hands in a panic and she swiftly turned around.

A Frenchman was racing toward them and in a panic Elizabeth began to fiddle with the gun but became frustrated as it jammed. Without a second thought she flipped the gun around and ran toward him. She clocked him once in the stomach with the butt of it and then in the head—the temple to be precise, just a tad bit to the right to result in the man falling to the sand unconscious. Calculated, she thought to herself. _Calculated injury. _

Suddenly there was a silence around her as she breathed heavily, grasping the gun with white knuckles. The French were retreating and no one was fighting any more.

Ardeth approached her from behind and took the gun from her hands. "You know you are supposed to use the other end?"

Elizabeth chuckled as she turned around, only to have her breath hitch in her throat. Ardeth was a mess. She quickly ran up to him and checked the wounds on his face, gently holding his jaw, running her thumb around some of the larger ones to judge depth.

"Are you alright? Does anything hurt?" She checked his chest and arms for more injuries before he grabbed both her hands and pushed them down.

"I am fine, Elizabeth."

"Are you sure? These cuts on your face are deep, you might need stitching."

"Then I'm glad I have you to help—back at camp." Elizabeth smiled before hearing the groan from another man not too far away. Quickly she sprinted off in aid of the warrior.

* * *

The Medjai had won the battle, just barely. They had scared off most of the Frenchmen who vowed never to return again. Elizabeth's heart was still racing when they had arrived back at the camp, towing the injured men so she could care for them better with the rest of her supplies.

Three gunshot wounds and six stitchings later Elizabeth hadn't felt so exhilarated. Her body moved so easily between the men, her hands had never worked faster nor more accurately.

Ardeth watched her as she cleaned the final sword graze on a man's arm. She was humming again, something Ardeth himself found comforting. Elizabeth was comfortable enough to hum while performing surgery and stitching up wounds, a doctor who was this comfortable—Ardeth had never seen anyone so naturally suited for this in his life.

"What are you looking at then, Mr. Bay?" She asked, finishing up the stitching and bandaging up the man's arm. She stood and walked up to him, slowly removing the wrap he had given her. But he pushed it away.

"Keep it." He said and she smiled gently. Then her smile fell when she saw blood on his hands.

"Ardeth, you're bleeding." She went right for his chest and saw a deep gash across his chest through his robes.

"Not here." He said in a hushed tone, to which Elizabeth snatched up her supplies and followed him into his tent.

* * *

"I cannot believe you lied to me." She said as she angrily pushed a clump of gauze over the wound and place his own hand over it to apply pressure. "Were you not going to tell me?"

Ardeth looked down, obviously at a minor loss for words as he sat on his cot. "A Chieftain must never show weakness, Elizabeth—you must understand."

Elizabeth sighed and prepared more gauze to stop the bleeding. "You could have told me in private, Ardeth. You know you can trust me…can you take off some of your robes?"

Ardeth nodded and proceeded to disrobe the top half of his body. Elizabeth turned and prepared a needle—mostly preparing herself for what she was about to see.

When she turned she nearly gasped at the tattooed, muscled torso that belonged to the dear Ardeth—the gash in his chest noticeably out of place amongst the ripple of his muscles. It wasn't long, the gash—about four inches but was relatively deep and therefore needed stitching. Quickly she ignored her impulses as she removed the gauze once more to start the stitches.

"I'm sorry, but this will probably hurt. I don't have anymore morphine." She whispered, getting straight down to it.

"It is alright," His shoulders tensed at the first poke but then steadily loosened as she went on. "Thank you for what you did out there. Because of you not a single Medjai lost his life today."

"It's just what I do, Ardeth." She replied absentmindedly.

"Yes but the skill, and the determination is…admirable. A battle of that magnitude—we would have lost at least six or seven men. Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Shh…" He watched her narrow her brow and bite her lip as she concentrated. Unbeknownst to her, he in that moment found it quite cute.

"There. All finished, wasn't too bad, huh?" She cleaned off her hands and began wrapping his chest with gauze to protect the stitching.

"Not bad at all. Thank you, Elizabeth." He said, looking down at her. At the moment she was on her knees in front of him, tightening the bandage. She looked up when she was finished and could not help but release a shuttered breath.

"You're very welcome." Was her quiet reply as her eyes went from his eyes to his lips. Quickly she cleared her throat and stood. When she turned she sighed out in tire.

Suddenly Ardeth saw her back pause and stand very still. Elizabeth felt a cool rush, as though all her blood left her body suddenly and made her weak. She felt her legs lose their stance and she caught herself on a side table. How strange.

"Elizabeth?" Ardeth stood up quickly.

"Huh." She said matter-of-factly, "That is odd." She touched her nose and looked at the blood that coated her fingers. Suddenly her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to fall before Ardeth caught her, calling her name as she faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

_**Please let me know what you think! **_


	7. Chapter 7

_"Doctor Whitmore, we got another one!" Elizabeth looked to the entrance on the med tent to two soldiers hauling in an unconscious man on a stretcher. She looked down at man she was currently suturing and sighed out, stress filling her every crevice. A beat of sweat fell from her brow. _

_A large, deep boom echoed through the front and everything shook. Quickly she stood and ran over to the new patient. Another boom and Elizabeth fell over from the impact. _

_She shuffled over to the man in the stretcher and got straight to work finding his ailment. A sigh exited her lips when she spotted the shrapnel sticking out of his stomach._

_"Elizabeth?" She heard softly and her head jolted up. _

_"Daniel…" Elizabeth gripped his hand. _

_"It's okay, Lizzy. Most of the damage is in my stomach. I know I probably won't last." He said quietly, sputtering. _

_"No, no, I can get it out Daniel, I can fix this." She said seriously and stood to grab her kit when Daniel grabbed her wrist. _

_"No, Lizzy, it's okay. I know—" He coughed, "I know it's my time." _

_"Daniel if you just give me—"_

_"If I give you what? Two or three hours? There are much more simple wounds in here that can be healed in a portion of that time."_

_"I cannot just let you die, Daniel." Another explosion erupted and Elizabeth felt like the ground was shaking, the ceiling of the tent was caving in slowly. _

_"It's okay, Lizzy. Go help them. I'm a lost cause. I'm just happy I got to know you." He said softly, touching her face. Slowly Elizabeth kissed his forehead. _

_"Goodbye, Daniel." _

_"Go, darling." _

* * *

Ardeth sat next to Elizabeth, who laid on a cot in one of the tents—her breath shallow and sweat pooling into her hair onto the pillow. Her eyes fluttered and he wondered what she was thinking—what she was dreaming.

Tala, one of the Medjai's wives, placed a rag over her forehead. She had been tending to Elizabeth since he brought Elizabeth to her.

"You have been here a while, Ardeth." She spoke softly. "Are you not tired?"

"No, I am fine right here." Tala looked at him suspiciously as he kept his attention on Elizabeth.

"She will be alright, Ardeth. Just exhaustion, over-worked." He sighed and nodded. "I must go now. Will you watch over her?"

"Yes I will."

Tala stood and walked away slowly. She couldn't help herself and turned to look once more at Ardeth watching over the doctor. She could have sworn just then, that he brush a bit of hair from her face.

But perhaps it was Tala's imagination.

* * *

_Elizabeth laid in the sand, her body fitting perfectly resting in the millions of tiny particles. She looked up to the sky, silhouettes of palm leaves that swayed in the wind played shadows on the ground and on her skin. She hummed to herself then, but a tune she didn't know. _

_A tune made up, right then. A tune from her heart. _

_Another shadow appeared over her skin and she opened her eyes. Ardeth stood above her for a moment before he sat next to her. _

_"Hello Ardeth."_

_"Hello Elizabeth."_

_She smiled and looked back to the sky. _

_"I must leave soon." She said quietly, "I must leave and return home, to English society."_

_"Why must you return to that place?"_

_"Because it is…where I'm supposed to be…"_

_"Is that where you feel you belong? England?"_

_Elizabeth laughed then breathed out heavily. "No. I think I belong in war. It's all I've known for so long; battles and action—waiting for anything to happen."_

_"You thrive on the energy." He stated. _

_"Nothing happens in England. Everything…everything happens here."_

_"The desert will miss you, Elizabeth. But you must do what you want."_

_Another sigh escaped her lips and she looked at him. His eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, so dark that she could barely distinguish the line between his irises and his pupils._

_"I don't want to go to England. I want to stay here."_

_"Then stay."_

_"I want to stay here with you." Elizabeth admitted and looked away. _

_"Then stay—with me."_

* * *

Elizabeth's eyes suddenly shot open and she breathed in deeply. Her whole body ached and the heat in the air stuck to her skin.

"Elizabeth?" Ardeth asked as she rubbed her eyes and coughed, adjusting to the light. Her name was repeated again and she looked to her side to see Ardeth with a calm, but worried expression on his face.

"What happened?" Tala handed her a cup of water and she drank it quickly.

"You lost consciousness from exhaustion after the battle this morning." Tala said as she stood and left the tent. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"How long was I unconscious for?"

"About eight hours—most of the day. Tala has been taking care of you while I've been out scouting the grounds in the East." Elizabeth nodded at Ardeth's words.

"How is Abdal? I don't usually leave him for that long." She moved to stand but Ardeth gently pushed her back.

"Abdal is fine, but Elizabeth you must rest." She looked down as though she was scolded by her mother. "You care so much for others it seems you forget about yourself."

"I know I can get a bit carried away, sometimes I just forget." Ardeth smiled at her chuckle. "It happened quite often on the front, that's why I had Archie."

Elizabeth watched Ardeth and saw in his face a hint of something—like he wanted to say something.

"What is it, Ardeth?"

"It's nothing." He shook his head and brushed it off. "How are you feeling?"

"I am alright," she placed two fingers underneath her jaw and hummed. "I can't really feel my pulse though. I hope that just means I am just very hot and not dead or dying."

"I can assure you, Elizabeth, you are not dead. If it would make you feel better, I could check it for you?"

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat but she dumbly nodded. Ardeth slowly reached for her wrist and placed two fingers on the pale side. He quieted as he concentrated.

"It seems as though your heart is beating at a rapid pace, does that mean something is wrong?"

"Um—" She gulped a pulled her hand out of his grasp, "It's probably nothing. I—I actually am feeling better now. If it's alright with you I'd love to check on Abdal."

Ardeth watched her for a moment, his eyes boring into hers. "If you feel up to it, I cannot stop you."

Elizabeth nodded in thanks and slowly made her way out of the tent, Ardeth's eyes still on her back.

* * *

**Sorry it's been so long but I hope you enjoyed it all the same! Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth walked into Abdal's tent and sighed, getting straight to work. She spoke to herself, mostly encouraging her nauseous stomach not to lose it's strength. And not to think of the look in Ardeth's eyes when she had woken up.

Abdal groaned in his sleep and his eyes fluttered as she cleaned his wound.

He breathed out and she noticed his eyes open. He struggled to open them fully, even bringing one hand to clear the blurriness and looked at Elizabeth.

She sat up on his bedside and waited. "Well look at you." She smiled.

**_"Angel?_**"

Elizabeth chuckled, holding a cup of water to his lips. "No, sadly, I am only your doctor. Though I feel like you might be my own angel."

He drank and then spoke clearly. "How is that?"

Elizabeth smiled brightly at his clear english. She refilled his water. "You are my angel, Abdal, because you have brought me here."

He looked at her with a glint in his eye, "Good." Then he laid back down and passed out. Elizabeth chuckled to herself and continued to clean his wound.

* * *

That evening Elizabeth held herself within a thick blanket by the fire. She still felt weak from the previous morning and early afternoon's events. Passing out did not help too much either. But she was ever resilient, the cool desert air filled her lungs now and she was calm. Though anxious, awaiting the moment she was to be joined by Ardeth.

Her nightly lessons with Ardeth where becoming increasingly frustrating. She loved them, almost too much—so much so it was hard to leave him to retire to sleep when she grew so tired her eyelids became heavier than ten thousand pounds of sand. And hard to leave because she wanted to know so much more, feel so much more in his perspective. The past two days have given Elizabeth an insight into Ardeth that only kept her wanting more. Of him.

She looked out into the desert and saw him walked up to her, slowly.

Abdal was coherent now, and soon he would be able to walk and then her departure would soon follow. Something she knew now, that she did not want. But she couldn't very well stay here. As much as she wanted to she knew she did not belong.

* * *

"Qlab." Ardeth said softly. "Do you know what that means?"

Elizabeth shook her head, the fire cracked softly. "Um…Fire?" She asked, knowing Ardeth often picked words with spatial relevance, but now she didn't quite know.

"No. Not quite." Slowly he raised his hand and all but hesitantly tapped a finger just below her collarbone.

"Rib cage?" Ardeth shook his head and smirked, "Heart?"

He nodded, "Qlab." His finger lingered on her skin and Elizabeth felt on fire.

"Call-bu…" She trailed off as his thumb lingered over her collarbone and her breath came out ragged. She placed her hand over his and held it there. "May I tell you something, Ardeth?"

"Of course you may." Their fingers softly drifted together between them. It was new, it was intimate, innocent.

"You asked me in Hamunaptra if I had ever been in love, but I wasn't quite honest. The answer is yes. I have." Ardeth looked away from her in that moment, his hand slightly relinquishing its hold. But Elizabeth still held his hand in hers.

"What happened?"

"It wasn't actually love, now that I really think about it. But it was something…" Elizabeth sighed and stopped. Ardeth looked at her with a deep curiosity.

"Anything you wish to tell me, Elizabeth, I will listen." She nodded, and shirked all discomfort.

"It was during the war, about a year in I met Daniel. We were the same age and he had been sent to Ghana having previously been to France the month before. I guess, that doesn't really matter…" Elizabeth chuckled and held in a breath. "I've never told anyone about him. Not that I really ever had anyone to tell these types of things to."

"You may tell me." Ardeth said with a certainty that she felt resonate deep within her, as though he was telling her—_I am here to listen. _

Elizabeth sighed, "He was ridiculous at first, and clumsy. I would see him in the med tent every other day before I realized he was always there to see me. He was a good soldier and we talked for hours when we could. He was kind and respectful and I fell for him so very quickly." She paused again, "But not very long after that we experienced a bomb raid. Wiped out thirty percent of the troop, including Daniel."

Ardeth's palm connected with hers softly, "I am sorry, Elizabeth."

"It's okay. I did get to say goodbye which is a lot more than others get to do. I became quite good at saying goodbye to people I cared for—and it wasn't as though we were invested in one another, just there for each other. It is…" A sigh came from her then, a happy one. "It has put me in a place where I feel comfortable in my past, and therefore my future. And in the present, here—right now. I am sorry I lied to you at first about it."

"I have no qualms with this lie, if it could be called so. I am deeply sorry for your loss, Elizabeth and only wish I can help you get through it in any way I can."

"It is alright, it was quite some time ago and I have since moved on. There isn't much else a choice than that." Elizabeth said truthfully and her thumb rubbed against his knuckles. "I just—I wanted you to know."

"Thank you. And even still, Elizabeth, I am here for you."

Elizabeth held in a burst of a tears, for she wish she could say she would be there for him.

* * *

Another week passed and Abdal's side was healing better than expected. He could move with very little strain thanks to intensive daily exercises practiced with Elizabeth.

"Excellent, Abdal! I am so happy." Elizabeth beamed, directing his steps back toward the bed after an unassisted lap around the tent. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Not incredible. But good. Thank you doctor, you are truly—a blessing." He breathed out, careful not to put too much pressure on his side.

"Oh," she hummed, a mild blush appeared on her cheeks as she washed her hands, "I'm not quite sure about that."

"It is true. You will soon realize." Abdal grunted loudly as he laid himself back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Elizabeth was quickly learning that next to Ardeth, Abdal's English was almost parallel to her own native grasp of the language. She was thankful for it was quite nice to have someone to talk to other than Ardeth. As much as she did enjoy speaking with him, she felt it difficult sometimes—she felt in most senses of the word: anxious—around him.

Abdal began humming to himself and Elizabeth sighed, watching him for a moment. He was joyful, happy—to be alive and to be healing. His spirit was unmatched, she even felt herself a bit more uplifted whilst around him. A brief breeze filtered through the tent's opening, the flaps fluttered open and closed. For a brief moment she spotted Ardeth speaking with another member of the Medjai.

"Do you have anyone, Abdal?" Elizabeth asked quietly, turning her attention to the meditative task of organizing her medical bag.

"Me? No, certainly not."

"This may be a question of much ignorance but…"

"No question is ever ignorant, Doctor Elizabeth."

"Do the Medjai have w…do you—"

"Do we have wives, you mean?" Elizabeth sighed and nodded, thankful he understood her stammering. "Of course we do, how to do you think the descendant line is passed on? Immaculate birth? We are warriors, not monks."

Elizabeth struggled to hold in a burst of laughter at Abdal's pointed joke, struggled and failed. Abdal's face lit up at her laugh.

"You are very pretty when you smile, Doctor Elizabeth." He spoke and she cleared her throat—repositioning herself on her knees.

"Thank you, Abdal."

Her patient, sensing her discomfort raised his hand, "Do not worry Doctor, I know where the boundaries lie."

"Indeed with patients and doctors the lines can vary—"

"There are many different boundaries that exist in our world, Doctor." Abdal snuggled into his pillow and pulled a blanket over his shoulders. "Now stop distracting me, I need my rest so I may heal."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his cheeky comment but left nonetheless. When she exited the tent Ardeth's eyes lifted to hers and he nodded gently in recognition while he spoke to the other Medjai. Elizabeth paused and watched him speak, the slight movements of his head to the sway of his hair in the wind. His eyes were sharp and he was focused.

But again, as though he could sense it—he looked back up and connected eyes with Elizabeth and for a moment quieted. Elizabeth, now fully self-conscious, looked away and started for her tent to turn in for the evening.

When she sat down on her cot she sighed, her head in her hands.

_Don't you do it, old girl. _She could hear her brother, Charlie, say to her in a situation like this. _It's not smart and you're about to leave this place. No attachments. _

"No attachments." Elizabeth muttered to herself and looked ahead, distance reaching in her eyes in tire but also excitement. She felt. She hadn't felt in a very long time. And to feel, truly feel, well…that felt good.

* * *

**_Please let me know what you think! _**


	9. Chapter 9

That evening Elizabeth woke up later than usual but still found the mysterious Chieftain flanking the small fire in the middle of camp. She was cautious lest her emotions take hold of her every action, she must be restrained without being rude. The past several years in the war did nothing to help that polite side of her personality.

Elizabeth wanted to stay, so so badly. But she was displaced. She knew she belonged in a hospital in England, sharing what she knew and curing her people of diseases and ailments.

But England had a sparse landscape of beautiful people, much unlike Egypt and Africa. People in England were superficial, craving not water and solace but champagne, sex, and popularity. She had always known this was England and even in her childhood she felt a wanderlust for other places, more exotic and real.

Egypt was real, the sand was real, the history here was real. In every step she took she could feel it surge within her. When Ardeth was beside her she felt like the world spun beneath them, versus them standing still upon its surface. Time was impermanent and most importantly, unimportant.

She had spent two months here now with the Medjai in the barren desert, but it felt like years. Two months in the desert and she had found truth within herself.

A constant thought that raged inside her, was she making a mistake?

That evening Ardeth taught her "thank you" and "sand." Lately he had been teaching her words she would need to know and an indulgent word that he wanted her know. Which she kind of loved about him. Practical with vision, her father would say. Perfect mesh, is what she would call it.

"Ram-al-loo." She said, attempting to say _"sand."_

"Close, rama-loon." Ardeth smiled as though he had never felt more joy.

"Oh, oh I see, Rama-loon." She laughed at her mistake.

"Perfect." Ardeth smiled, dropping a line of sand from his palms into hers. "Sand. And then; Haya."

"Life." She said, smiling, "I know that one."

"Very well you should." Ardeth smiled at her, his hands moved to softly hold hers, to catch the sand that spilled from between her fingers. Elizabeth felt his fingers under hers and sucked in a breath of thick air. She then let all the sand fall from her hands and shifted her hold, turning her palm to match his. "Elizabeth…"

Ardeth's fingers slowly intertwined Elizabeth's and she closed her eyes briefly. The feeling of holding his hand was otherworldly. And more intimate that she could have imagined. He held her hand with a strong, calloused grip, shifting to use both his hands. She watched him suck in a breath as he looked at their untwined hands. His thumb gently rubbed a circle into the inner side of her wrist.

"Elizabeth, can I be honest with you?"

"You know you can, Ardeth."

He struggled, she thought, to come up with the next words. "I worry that though your time here may be brief—your memory I fear may last much longer."

"You fear?" Elizabeth's voice cracked, and was quiet. With every passing day this man made her question everything about herself and what she wanted. She, too, feared that his memory would fade ever too slowly when she left.

"When Abdal is able to walk on his own—fight and protect this land just as he used to, you will leave and I fear…the Medjai will forever feel the blow of your absence." Elizabeth breathed in and attempted to hold back bursts of emotions. "You have been a blessing, from your healing, to everlasting teachings on health for me and my men…and as well, from your calming presence and evening companionships I fear that…I may experience that loss most of all."

"Ardeth…" she held onto his hands tighter. "I will miss you as well. Let me teach you and your men how to take care of themselves if anything were to happen, so that I will be comforted in the thought that you will not need me anymore."

Ardeth closed his eyes, the wind blew his hair softly over his face. Elizabeth brushed some of it away and sighed. She cursed herself for her actions but she couldn't help herself. She dreamed of touching him in this way, to feel his skin and his hair.

Ardeth slowly brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers. Elizabeth thought to herself how much she wanted to say _I will always need you, _but the thought of that being much too forward weighed on her. She will be leaving soon. So she let go.

"I am sorry. I should check on Abdal." Quickly Elizabeth stood and walked to Abdal's tent, crushing the urge to look back behind her.

* * *

"Hmm." Elizabeth hummed to herself, observing Ardeth's stitches. "You've taken good care of your wound and the stitches."

"I didn't want to inconvenience you." Elizabeth looked up to Ardeth's eyes and narrowed her own.

"Don't ever do that again. Medical care is never an inconvenience to me, especially with you, Ardeth. I need to know you're okay." She spoke as she re-bandaged his chest. "But I am comforted, knowing that you can take care of yourself in this way. Who's going to stitch you up when I am gone?" She laughed to herself softly, "Does it hurt?"

Ardeth was silent for several moments, watching her. Then he closed his eyes, "Only a little."

Elizabeth looked up at him. "Where does it hurt? Here?" She pressed her fingers just under the wound, then above. "Or here?"

"No."

"Show me where it hurts then." She said, worry in her voice.

Ardeth grabbed her hand and pressed it over his heart, no where near his wound at all. "Here." He said quietly.

Elizabeth rested her hand over his heart for several moments, her thumb rubbing against the bare skin of his chest.

"I am sorry, I wish I had the skills to fix that." Elizabeth lifted her hand and nodded toward him in farewell, standing. Then suddenly she felt his hand grasp onto the ends of her fingers.

"Elizabeth, please, stop running away." Ardeth said quietly, in a hushed voice. Elizabeth felt his grasp, soft but firm. "Stop running just when things get…"

"Just when things get what? Complicated?" She whispered, still not facing him.

"Elizabeth…"

She groaned to herself, hating the way he said her name like that. With such earnest breath, and need. Slowly she turned and walked back to him. The candles in the tent flickered yet it was still light out, just barely. Ardeth stood up to her, and she looked up to his eyes, over the cheeks that bore the markings of the Medjai. Over his bare chest and arms.

Then she closed her eyes and sighed out.

"Please…please don't make this harder, Ardeth." Her hands fell on his chest and pushed him gently.

"I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. But I…"

"I know." Her eyes opened, and she repeated, "I know. But you know I will be gone soon. I can't in good conscious do something we both might regret."

She turned away then and walked out of the tent. That evening she did not meet Ardeth by the fire.

* * *

**Please let me know what you think! I do truly love to hear your thoughts! Especially since changes are in the near distant winds!**


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning Elizabeth was speaking to an older man, holding his hand gently in both of hers. She was listening to him speak—only missing a few words in his quiet slur of Arabic. Pride in herself was true, thanks to Ardeth for teaching her so well.

The old man spoke of the sky and of sand, of how she would need to find a way to bring both back with her when she left. She was stumped as to how on earth she would capture the sky well enough to travel with it safely back to England and through customs.

"Elizabeth?" She turned to the voice, to Ardeth walking up to her. "You wanted to speak with me?"

She nodded and bid the elder farewell.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" She asked, gesturing for the ruins. Ardeth nodded and followed, focus on his brow.

The wind was stronger today than most days, her hair which had grown considerably in the last several weeks, whipped around her face. And the wrap, which Ardeth had given to her, kept her neck warm and safe.

He sighed softly, glancing at her only once. He was waiting for her to speak, for her to say the first words they both dreaded. In turn Elizabeth kept her line of sight far from him, unable to look him in the eye for fear she may lose herself.

They walked for what seemed like an hour, by each other's side through the ruins of a lost city.

"Would you like to hear about the first time I saw Hamunaptra?" Ardeth spoke and Elizabeth smiled and nodded. "I was ten. My mother was adamant that I choose my own path instead of following in my father steps. But I was just as adamant. I wanted to protect my family and my people, just like my father and grandfather before me. So I chose, at ten years old, to become a Medjai. That's when my father took me to the city of the dead, to show me what my life would be. And when I saw it for the first time I felt it's power immediately, felt it's pull—it's curses. I will never forget the sunrise, the colors of the sky when it appeared before my father and I. I felt it's danger but also it's love. It's hope, and I knew, then I had made the right choice in life."

Elizabeth smiled to herself as he spoke, hearing him speak so candidly was beautiful to her. A soft, rosy feeling filled her stomach.

"I think you made the correct choice."

"I think so too. Was there a specific reason for this meeting of ours?"

"…I am sorry about last night, it's just…" She sighed and looked up at the sky. "I would like to be candid, since you are so with me."

Ardeth nodded, "You may."

"I…I do not know if I ever told you how much I admire you, since I met you. The way you carry yourself with such weight on your shoulders—even I cannot know what that must be like." She said, hoping the courage in her words was not lost on him.

Ardeth thought for several moments on her words. "It gets easier everyday, much like anything else. Easier with people like you to help."

Elizabeth held back a painful sigh and nodded, tears threatening to swell.

"I'm not so special, with what I've taught you and your men you'll do just fine without me." The conversation was restrained, and it was as though they'd shared the same words hundreds of times before—but the conversations before did not seem nearly as hard as they did right in this moment. So she spoke simply, "Abdal is walking and I am confident by the end of the week he will be able to hold a sword again like he used to."

"Good. I will be happy to have him back in his usual position. Thank you."

Elizabeth nodded slowly and smiled at him, their eyes connected and he nodded in turn just as slow.

"The tribe will miss you."

"I will miss them."

"I will take you to Cairo at the end of the week, the ships for Europe dock every six days so we shall make it just in time." Elizabeth listened to his words and felt herself nodding, afraid to look into his eyes this time.

Pain, this internal pain she was feeling, was something Elizabeth did not yet know how to heal.

* * *

"Is this all you have?" Ardeth asked in the early morning. The sun had just barely a sliver risen above the cascading rolls of the desert hills. Elizabeth hoisted her single bag up onto the camel's back.

"Yes, just what little clothing I have left and a few bits and bobs from my time here in Africa. I've used up a lot of my medical equipment and I've left the rest of what I had with Tala."

"Are you certain you will not need any of it?"

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled gently, "No, not unless I run into another tribe of dark linen clad warriors in the middle of the Atlantic needing medical attention, that is."

Ardeth smirked as she spoke, tightening the horses reins.

"I do wish I'd had enough time to teach you to ride." He said as he helped her up on the horses back.

"Perhaps some day you may teach me, but for now you must act as my chauffeur." Elizabeth laughed to herself as she got situated on the saddle.

"Chauffeur? What is this word?"

Elizabeth chuckled again as they began their trek across the desert.

"Perhaps some day I will tell you."

"Alright then, you have your mysteries. Get comfortable, Miss Elizabeth."

They rode for hours, the hot sun tanning their skin even darker. Elizabeth was anxious and nervous to return home. Though she still had a ways to travel it was still impending, the people she must face, the reality and the society she must face.

As she laid her head on Ardeth's back, the gentle sway of the horse's steps in the sand lulled her into complete relaxation.

She would have to deal with England soon enough, but for now the thing she wanted nothing more was to feel him. Just these last few hours, and smell him. Ardeth smelled like sand and earth, he smelled human. And on top of that he smelled like something else, like a tea or an herb she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was a smell should would never forget.

* * *

When they arrived in Cairo Elizabeth's every sense was raised to high; the sounds, the smells, the light, the people. Everything was moving faster and faster and Elizabeth smiled as she watched the merchants and citizens and eyed the pyramids and architecture along the Nile. Busy, she thought, busy like London—but with sand.

"Do you come here often?" Elizabeth asked as Ardeth helped her off the horse.

"Often enough. I have business here sometimes, contacts to connect with."

"You like it here then?" She swung her bag over her shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

"I do. The food is good, the people are kind, the land is beautiful."

"It is beautiful." She said looking around. "Different than the desert, more…people." Ardeth smirked at her.

"The ship will board within an hour's time. You will board there," He said, pointing to the end of the dock by the river. Elizabeth nodded. "Would you like me to stay with you until it is time for you to board?"

Elizabeth looked at him with a small smile on her face and nodded again gently. Together they walked the Nile for the rest of the hour, sharing few words together—just enjoying one another's quiet company. Neither really knowing if they would ever see each other again.

After their time was up they approached the ship, passengers began to board with their luggage in an excited rush. Elizabeth sucked in a breath and looked at her feet.

"I believe I will miss you, Ardeth." He looked her in the eye and stepped closer to her.

"I will miss you as well, Miss Elizabeth." He dug into his pocket then and pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper. "This is the address of my contact here in Cairo, if you are ever in trouble or need…anything at all—you may write to this address. Keep it close." Elizabeth took the paper gently and held his hand in hers for the moment.

"Thank you." She said as she leaned forward. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Ardeth rested his forehead on hers and he sighed.

"I will thank Allah everyday for bringing you to me." Ardeth said quietly, closing his eyes in a moment of contemplation. Or perhaps it was so he could remember every second about this moment right here, right now like she was. Memorization of moments was easy for her, a curse her mother had called it. And she would never forget a moment like this one.

"We can't, Ardeth." Elizabeth sighed, eyes still closed. She wanted so badly to feel his lips on hers, to experience him like she had never before—intimately and eternally. She heard him sigh in her ear. "If we do then I am afraid I might not be able to leave your side."

She felt Ardeth's arms wrap around her waist to pull her closer. Their bodies had been this close before but never their faces, their lips, and never so intimately.

"You speak as though I will find that a bad thing." Elizabeth chuckled and kissed his cheek again slowly.

"I must go, but this will not be the last time we are together. I promise you." She said into his ear and he breathed out heavily again. He pulled back and moved his hands from her waist to cup her cheeks.

"May our paths cross again, Elizabeth." Ardeth said with finality and kissed her forehead. "I must go, and you must board that ship. Good luck."

Elizabeth nodded and picked up her bag. Ardeth turned to leave and she watched him until he disappeared into a crowd of people. She heaved a big sigh and took a long look around, memorizing this moment.

The river, the air—the breeze, the smells picked up by the breeze, the pyramids, and beautiful buildings that surrounded her. Just as she took a step toward the ship she noticed a man struggling with a large trunk exiting a building opposite the Nile. It looked as though he might throw his back out at any second.

Quickly she ran over a picked up the other side, alleviating the weight from the man's back.

She helped him move the trunk to a wagon just adjacent to the building.

"Thank you so much, m'am." Elizabeth nodded and looked up to the second floor of the building, through the windows of the first.

"Are you moving, sir?" She spoke in Arabic, hoping her accent wasn't too terrible.

"Yes I am. Sadly."

"When are you looking to sell?" Elizabeth felt her mouth ask before her mind had a moment to think.

"Within the next two months. Why—are you interested?"

The breeze picked up a scent of musk and rice and her mind went silent. She gazed past the man to the beautiful building, dark reds and pale orange brick and stone in facets of an old 19th century building—with rot iron balconies and gold trim detailing and a single black and white striped arch over the front entrance. Elegant but understated next to ancient pyramids, she thought.

Her breath left her again as her lips spoke before her mind could beat it, "Would you ever consider selling to a doctor?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you all so very much for your wonderful reviews and favorites! It truly delights me to hear what you think! I hope you enjoy this chapter where Elizabeth finally arrives home to England. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

A gentle breeze whistled through the air, bits of hair tickled Elizabeth's nose as a gust of mist sprinkled her cheeks. The ship's bow sliced the silvery waves on this cold evening, the last evening aboard the RMS Aquitania for Elizabeth on her voyage back to England. She shivered at the chill but focused on the crash of the waves, the wind in her hair. Anything to prevent her from what she was truly feeling.

She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. Soon she will make port in England, then she must consider her next steps.

Some might consider the procrastination of figuring out what she must do until the very last minute irresponsible, she considers it panic—or in the very least, purposeful ignorance. Because if she must focus on her next move then a part of her past would fall away from her memory, pushed back into the vaults never to be recalled upon again.

The ship's deep, bellowing horn made her jump in her seat. Her heart beat in her throat and she felt cold and hot at the same time.

Home.

She was home.

* * *

Ernest Whitmore was an American writer, aged 52, currently located in London, England. He lived alone, except for his housekeeper, Elsa, who resided in the opposite wing of the townhome which he owned. He had purchased the townhome in the upper Eastside of London with his late wife, Dr. Maria Bender, over twenty years ago. It had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a reasonably sized kitchen, an office for Ernest to write, a den which they had both converted into a library when their two children where born. A den that just now, stood as both a library and a bar for Ernest, an American writer who lived alone in his townhome in London.

It was bridging midnight as Ernest flipped through an old novel by Proust and poured himself another serving of bourbon into an intricate porcelain tea cup. He found the pairing ironic, a gentle amusement in his quiet life.

Occasionally his son, Charlie, would visit him—most often in the mornings to snag a couple biscuits before he rushed with the rest of London Metropolis to their pencil pushing jobs. A brief, but welcomed visit. He wondered if he would see Charlie in the following morning, something to look forward to at least.

Ernest sighed as the clock struck midnight. He was a night owl, so this chime meant very little to him. It merely reminded him of his daughter, Elizabeth. Younger than Charlie by three years, though accomplished well beyond her older brother's wildest ambitions. Ernest took a sip of his bourbon and reminisced on times long ago. She was a night owl herself, one of the few good traits she inherited from him.

It had been four years and six months since his daughter had gone to war. Eight months since he had opened the letter that stated his daughter, at a mere twenty four years old, was MIA or Missing in Action—last seen on the African continent in 1918.

To be honest he preferred that news over the most sinister possibility. At least in that there was hope. At least he could still attempt to find her. Though his mind could never help but wander into thoughts of what could have happened to his daughter, and in these dark moments his stomach churned. Sometimes an active imagination was not too far off from a curse.

Another sighed escaped his mustachioed lips and he picked his book up once more, hoping to retire from his library to his bedroom for the evening.

As he made his way there he read a particular intriguing line in Swann's Way that made him pause in the middle of the hallway.

"The comfort of reclusion, the poetry of hibernation…" He repeated aloud and pondered the phrase for several moments when the door at the end of the hall opened, letting in the pouring sounds of rain and a body into the foyer.

"Charlie? It's a bit late, old boy…" Ernest narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see who it was at his door. Typically Charlie burls in like a wild animal, bull in a china closet nature, but this person stood very still. "Sorry, buddy—you must have the wrong house—"

"Dad?"

The figure stepped out from the darkness into the light of the lamps and Ernest's breath caught in his throat.

"Eliz—" the tea cup dropped from his hands to the floor, along with the book, "Elizabeth?"

Dripping wet with a big rucksack in her arms, Elizabeth ran from the foyer down the hall into her father's arm.

"Oh my god, Lizzy, I—I can't believe it." He said as he kissed her head a thousand times, holding her tight.

"It's me. I'm here." She laughed and hugged him.

"They thought—they all thought you were dead, but I—I didn't it. I knew it." Elizabeth looked at her fathers smile and nodded.

"I know you did, papa. And I'm here now."

"You're here now, you ridiculous child." He hugged her again and this time didn't let go.

* * *

That morning Elizabeth woke to see the bright white ceiling of her childhood bedroom. Plaster and intricate designs in the corners that she remembered so fondly hating when she was a teenager but now she found their beauty exceptional. She rubbed her cheeks and stretched tiredly. Her bones cracked and she let out an involuntary sigh.

A small smile crossed her face and she looked around the room. Silence filled her mind as she recognized the pieces from her childhood; the wardrobe that still bore a crack in the left side door that kept it from closing completely, her vanity still with pieces from her mother's jewelry collection that had been passed down to her…her shelf of books remained the same as well—she even wondered if some of the books still bore the same dust as years ago, books that even now she had no interest in reading.

Elizabeth's eyes fell on her nightstand where a few objects still laid. A ribbon that she used to wear in her hair in medical school, an empty cup with dust in it, and a book still open but face down onto the surface—as if she had paused mid-paragraph for something important.

She picked the book up, "Pride & Prejudice" her absolute favorite novel, who's heroine inspired her namesake. Her father would never publicly admit that he named her after the ferocious Elizabeth Bennet because it too was his favorite novel.

She began to read at the top of the page she had left off on:

_"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills;—and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place where nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste…"_

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed out. Her mind immediately went to Ardeth, and she could all but imagine the sand underneath her toes, walking amongst the ruins of Hamunaptra with him, watching for larger rocks and insects to step around.

She shut the book closed and thusly shut the memory from her head. She heard a bit of commotion downstairs and her father yell something at Elsa. A smile graced her face as she stood.

Dressing in a simple tunic and pants she looked at herself in her vanity mirror. Something about the intricacies of the detailing in the room that she knew so well made her seem even now more simple than she was before. She would never have worn something so casual before, she would have worn a dress or an elegant pant suit to begin her days before school. But now she had no school, no classes to go, no war to go to, no battles to be weary of, nothing to do but follow the delicious scent of breakfast food down the stairs. And she was completely okay with that.

Quickly she snatched the black linen wrap off the top of her bag and made her way out of the bedroom.

"Elsa, bring some extra coffee but no cream! Elizabeth likes it black!"

Elizabeth smiled and stepped into the den where the breakfast table sat. She saw her father sitting at the round table, cigar and newspaper already in his hands.

"Lizzy!" He exclaimed as she kissed his cheek in greeting and sat next to him. "Did you sleep well, darling?" He spoke as he puffed and looked through the articles lazily.

"I slept well enough, it was light but restful."

"Good! Probably the first decent bed you've slept on in years I'd imagine."

"Most definitely." She agreed and took a long sip of coffee. A sigh escaped her body, she had forgotten what real coffee tasted like, real English coffee that is. Suddenly her mind was drawn back to the first time coffee was made for her while in Egypt.

_"So what is this?" Elizabeth asked gesturing to the street vendor who swirled a copper vessel with a long handle in the hot sand on their last afternoon together in Cairo. _

_"It's a kanaka, a coffee maker." Ardeth responded._

_"So the sand is warming it up?"_

_"Indeed, a quick and efficient way of brewing. Only in Egypt will you find coffee brewed in such a way."_

_"Fascinating." _

_"Would you like some?" Elizabeth looked at him and nodded happily. Ardeth gestured at the street vendor for two coffees. _

_The aroma itself was nearly to die for as she brought the small cup up to her lips. She took a quick swig of it and nearly choked. Ardeth gently laughed at her._

_"It's so sweet!" She laughed with him. "Halu! Are you laughing at me, Ardeth Bay?"_

_Ardeth took a sip of his own coffee, "Yes I am."_

_The street merchant smiled as they finished their coffee. It was hot outside and hot within her belly. _

"Lizzy?" She heard faintly. "Elizabeth."

"Hmm?" She was suddenly pulled from her memory and saw her father's brow narrow in confusion from across the table.

"Where'd you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere father, I've been right here." She said absentmindedly, dropping two sugar cubes into the coffee and stirring with more fervor than necessary.

"Well you obviously went somewhere in the last five seconds and came back with a sweet tooth." Her father said cheekily, mostly to himself. When their breakfast was placed on the table they dug in happily. Elizabeth smiled, loving that Elsa remembered that she liked orange preserves over apple or strawberry for her toast.

"Truly wonderful, Elsa, thank you." Elizabeth said, and in true Elsa fashion she scoffed, carrying a hamper of laundry.

"It's just breakfast, dear, don't get ahead of yourself." And promptly left the room.

"How long's it been since you've had a decent breakfast?"

"Too long. Though I wouldn't say I was completely without."

"Good." Ernest smiled and took in a deep inhale of his cigar.

After they finished their food Ernest stood and left the room but shortly returned with a piece of paper in his hands.

"What is this?"

"It's what they sent me when the war ended and they couldn't find you…I was so worried about you, Elizabeth. When I got this letter it was all at once better and worse than I could have imagined. Better because that meant that you probably weren't dead—but worse because there are far more terrible things that can happen than death."

Elizabeth held the paper in her hands but refused to look at it. "Dad, I am so sorry—"

"Just please tell me you were okay—you don't have to tell me what you were doing, just please tell me the war was the worst of it."

Elizabeth paused and set the paper down. She grabbed both of her father's hands and held them tightly.

"Believe me when I say that the time between the end of the war and leaving Giza Port on that boat were some of the greatest months of my life."

Ernest squeezed her hands back and smiled with ease.

"Good." He picked his cigar up and inhaled. Suddenly the front door banged open and loud footsteps could be heard. "Right on time, your brother arrives with 600 pound steps and a fire under his ass."

"He's your son, papa." Elizabeth chuckled.

"Mmhmm, and he's your brother, I bet you he won't even noticed you're here."

"Oh please, he will definitely notice—he must!"

"Wanna make it a bet?"

"You're on! Loser buys tea."

"Dad!" Charlie yelled.

"You're on, daughter of mine." They shook on it just as Charlie clamored into the den.

"Morning dad." Charlie spoke as his eyes raided the table, snatching up a few biscuits and a cup of tea. Elizabeth smiled at the same Charlie she remembered from years ago; bright blue eyed, blonde hair and freckled cheeks—just like their mother. "Listen I can't stay I'm running late and Cunningham will be on my arse if I don't get this copy into him by nine."

"Very well, son. Nice to see you then." Ernest hardly bothered to look up from his paper.

"Thank you, Elsa, for the breakfast." He kissed her cheek and then patted Ernest on the back, "Dad, see you later."

"See you, son."

"Later, Lizzy." Then Charlie bent down and kissed Elizabeth's cheek swiftly before he raced to the doorway. Suddenly he stopped dead in this tracks and dropped his bag and the collected biscuits. He turned quickly and sprinted back to his waiting sister. "Oh my god, Lizzy you're alive!"

He enveloped her in a crushing hug and began breathing erratically.

"Hello, Charlie." She said, tears forming in her eyes as Charlie refused to let go.

"I can't believe this." He said into her hair. "I can't believe you're here."

"I know. I'm so happy to see you." They parted and wiped eyes.

"When did you get back?"

"Just last night."

Charlie looked at his father, "I can't believe I'm just now hearing about this."

"Don't be too hard on him Charlie, he is after all treating us to tea later on."

Ernest narrowed his eyes at his daughter and grunted. "So it seems. Fairly won—by a hair!" He looked at Charlie, "I didn't tell you son because I figured you'd be more focused on your job, sure has kept you busy these last few months."

"Elsa, telegram the Daily, tell them I'm going to be out today. Tell them my sister is back from the war." He smiled and hugged her again. They made their way to the table.

"Where is it you're working then, Charlie?"

"I'm writing—"

Ernest scoffed, "Yeah, writing."

"I AM writing, for the Daily London—I'll have you know it is a very prestigious news resource, I offer a service to the people of London—"

"Not as a writer though." Elizabeth smiled with glee at her father's joking—god she had missed the bickering.

"Then what am I dad, if not a writer? I went to school for it!"

"You're a gossip! The words you spew out on that paper is hardly worth a whiff much less a look—"

"Alright, gentlemen," Elizabeth said loudly. "That's enough. Charlie I'm so happy that you've found something you're so passionate about. I always knew you had it in you."

"Thank you, Lizzy." He nodded, "Had to do something to set myself apart from you."

"You set yourself apart just fine, Charlie." Ernest went back to reading and brushed his son off without another look. "Elizabeth, care to tell us about the war?"

She paused mid-sip, choking down what little liquid she had in her throat.

"Just the good stuff, Lizzy." Her brother added, assuredly. Her father nodded.

"Well…I loved the desert and the heat, the sun. It was so different from here."

"Spend a lot of time in the sun then? Sounds more like a vacation to me." Charlie joked and Elizabeth smirked.

"I'd imagine, you're about six shades darker than 90% of the English population." Ernest laughed heartily.

"Yes, a vacation where you don't know if you're going to die at any given moment. Idyllic."

"Hey now, darling—" Her father started but she interrupted him. They had to know what it all meant.

"No it's okay, it was a good thing—I mean not good in that sense but good in the sense that I feel like I truly found my purpose."

"That's amazing, sis."

"And that purpose being?" Her father interjected, always curious. To this she merely shrugged.

"A mix of things, I suppose. Healing people, helping them in more ways that just physical, and above all I believe I really felt at home in the desert." Ernest eyed her in a way that she couldn't figure out. "The heat, the sand, the—"

"The malaria, the cholera, the dehydration." Her father finished for her.

"Thanks dad."

"Look, darling, I think you need to spend some more time here, calm down a bit—relax. You've been on that damn continent in that heat for four years, don't be so quick to dismiss the transitional period you may need in your home country."

Elizabeth sighed. Her father was right, he was always right about things like this—always right about her and her feelings. Just as it had been growing up, there was hardly a needle's worth of difference in the way her and her father both thought and acted.

"I know. I need to allow myself some time…I know." She ended speaking mostly to herself.

Conversation then continued organically; Charlie spoke about his life since Elizabeth had left, his job at the newspaper, the girl he almost married, the girl he almost got pregnant, the works. Her father regaled her in the tale of his travels to Italy in research for his newest novel. Boxing rings and surgeries, two very different but very similar acts which Ernest found utterly fascinating. Elizabeth loved the juxtaposition.

"So it's a male surgeon and a male boxer?" She asked.

"Correct."

"Why not a female surgeon?"

Ernest shrugged, eying her coyly. "Don't be silly we all know women aren't good surgeons." Elizabeth slapped his arm but laughed along with him.

Elsa arrived in the den with an envelope.

"Oh what can it be today…" He opened it and immediately rolled his eyes. "I don't know how that damn woman finds things out a second after they happen."

"What woman?" Elizabeth asked.

"_Your_ Aunt Meredith has somehow found out in the last twelve hours that you're back and is offended you haven't visited her yet. She insists upon dinner tonight." Elizabeth and Charlie groaned in unison. "_Children._ Elsa write her back for 7pm at La Cher Monroe. If we have to listen to the old cow drone on about her latest crochet group drama at least we can have a decent drink while we do it."

Elizabeth visibly gulped, she didn't know if she was ready for a dinner in public so soon. But she supposed that she wasn't really prepared for war so soon and she handled that just fine. So she felt confident then, to treat each move like she would in battle. Protect herself and protect her family. Though instead of German with tanks and bayonets, it was her Aunt Meredith with crochet needles and inevitable prying question about her personal life. She could hardly wait.


	12. Chapter 12

The restaurant was just as she remembered from her youth, it was her parent's favorite and they dined there often. She now realized it was because they had quite the extensive bar selection. Something she hadn't realized when she was younger, but something she was very grateful for at the moment.

It was loud, and crowded—the lights were low and candles were everywhere. London elite dined here—people like her father who was arguably the most famous author living in London at the moment, his only competition being H.G. Wells.

Elizabeth slowly sipped her gin and tonic, trying to ignore all the triggering sounds and the overwhelming heat of bodies in such a small space with very few windows. She sat next to her brother who sat next to their father who sat next to an empty chair in wait for their Aunt Meredith—who in turned was placed right next to Elizabeth. Nothing could prepare her for the sudden squeal made by the woman as she ran across the restaurant to grasp Elizabeth in a vide grip.

The woman meant well, Meredith Bender—her mother's elder sister. Serial knitter and such an avid gossip she nearly made a sport out of it. She was chatty and naive, both qualities neither siblings had inherited from their mother's side.

"So you must tell me all about the war, you know we had bits and pieces in the papers about France and the like but no first hand accounts from _Africa! _How exciting!" Meredith rambled on taking sips of wine and looking wildly around the restaurant. Her attention split between her family and the other families surrounding.

"Perhaps after dinner, Aunt Meredith." Elizabeth sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, hiding her anxiety. The walls in the restaurant seemed to be closing in and she seemed to be only one that noticed.

"Why wait? What was your experience in Egypt? Did you see any mummies?"

"Um, no I didn't see any mummies. I was stationed in Ghana most of the four years I was there, with a short period of time in the Saharan Desert." She was feeling hot, being put on the spot like this was irritating her. Her father and brother were a completely different story. The fact that she didn't care too much for her aunt didn't help the fact.

"Oh, what a shame." She responded. The waiter arrived to take their order.

Suddenly a loud POP! sounded off throughout the entire space and Elizabeth immediately reacted, her knees hitting the bottom of the table and her hand instantly on the knife set beside her plate.

She looked around wildly as a group celebrated the opening of a bottle of champagne. Her eyes landed on her Aunt Meredith who laughed and continued to order. The waiter went to her father who looked at her with a clinched jaw, deep in thought with worry in his eyes.

"Lizzy would you like to join me outside for a cigarette?" He asked abruptly.

"I don't smoke, papa, but thank you." She replied breathless, still holding onto the knife.

"How about some fresh air then, Elizabeth." He said more sternly and she finally looked at his pleading and concerned eyes. Slowly she nodded and let the knife fall. "Lizzy and I will both get the fish, thanks."

Elizabeth followed her father out the door and when she felt the gust of cold air she release her anxiety and she finally relaxed. She let out a haggard breath and fell into her father's open arms.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I know. I know what it's like." He whispered to her, stroking her hair. It was like she was a child again, afraid of the roaring thunder. But this time she was afraid of gunfire, violence, and screams of pain. It was all too close to her memory, pushing up against her back as if it was right behind ready to attack and consume her.

It was strange. In the desert with Ardeth and his tribe she was so ready to fight for what was right but here—everything seemed like a dream, like it wasn't real—like a nightmare that wouldn't go away.

She had to talk to someone about it. But not with her father, it would just worry him.

"Thank you, papa." She said as he lit a cigarette. He offered one to her and she accepted with a sigh. Worth a shot to calm her nerves.

"There is nothing that tobacco can not make a little better. Especially when…" He grunted as he maneuvered his hand into his inner breast pocket to pull out a shiny silver flask, "you have the finest bourbon at your disposal."

Elizabeth laughed and shared a few shots, tasting the strong alcohol mix with the tobacco gave her an oddly comforting feeling of calmness.

"Ready to eat?" Ernest asked. Elizabeth hummed. "Buck up, only another hour with the Wicked Witch of the West."

Elizabeth laughed and followed her father back inside.

"There you two are. I was worried you had left me alone with Aunt Meredith." Charlie's eyes were wide and desperate, a self-loathing undertone in his smile. Elizabeth smiled sheepishly and sat down next to him.

"Sorry, Charlie." As if on cue their food arrived.

After they had made a decent dent in their plates Meredith started to speak again.

"So Elizabeth, since you are back I think it's due time that you start looking for a husband, don't you agree Ernest?" Her father choked on his wine and beat his chest.

"Um, well, I guess—I guess if that's what Elizabeth wants…Is that what you want, darling?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened and her fork paused just in front of her mouth.

"Um, I don't…I don't know." To be honest she hadn't thought about it. Marrying someone seemed…trivial. Besides, more often than not in the past week traveling and being home when her mind wasn't consumed with her next step, it was utterly consumed by a particularly mysterious man in black robes and tattoos on his face. A man she didn't know if she would ever see again, but she supposed if she could find anyone here in England that came within a mile of Ardeth's bravery and strength, then perhaps she would consider it.

But at the moment, finding a husband didn't seem important.

"Well, how about you try so then you know! I know this wonderful lad, the grandson of one of my ladies in the crochet group. His name is Graham and he's free next Friday." Meredith said matter-of-factly. Elizabeth looked at her brother and her father for help but they both shrugged, leaving her on her own.

A deep sighed exited her lips, she knew she would regret her next words.

"Sure, Aunt Meredith, why not?" She feigned a smile, struggling to keep it turn up from the grimace she so desperately wanted to make.

"Oh good because I already told him you would. He'll pick up next Friday at 7. And honey, if I may offer some advice; don't mention the war, men find it intimidating when they find out women fought in the war."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, "Did Graham not serve?"

"I'm afraid not. Flat feet, he has." Elizabeth scoffed to herself but nodded. "And another bit of advice…" Meredith picked up the end of the wrap Ardeth had given her, which she still wore around her neck as a scarf, "Don't wear this."

"If you say so, Aunt Meredith." Elizabeth said, staring at her father who for the life of him could barely hold in his shit-eating smirk.

* * *

That evening Elizabeth sat at her father's desk in deep contemplation. A few pieces of paper and a pen in front of her. That evening Elizabeth wrote her first letter to Ardeth. It was short, but she said what she needed to say.

_A, _

_I hope you are doing well. I arrived in England just a day ago and things have been all at once slow and anxious. My father and brother were both very happy to see me, and I them. If only you could meet them, I think you would absolutely love my father, and I think he in turn would love you just as I do. _

_I've already been set up with a date by my treacherous aunt. But she said he is a teacher, so he cannot be too terrible. During dinner tonight I heard a loud sound and immediately reverted back to my soldier self, immediately ready to fight, immediately ready to die. It was a feeling I cannot quite describe in this moment, though I feel like you would have the perfect words for this situation. Perhaps there is a word in Arabic for fear of what could happen, because of what has happened in the past…_

_I am still recovering from this moment of high tension but find calmness in writing you this letter. _

_I truly do hope you are doing well and that the tribe is well and healthy. Remember to drink as much water as possible and don't make any stupid decisions. The world will not end if you take the time to rest. _

_Stay out of trouble and I will try to do the same. _

_I miss you. _

_Yours, _

_E_

Elizabeth sighed as she finished signing her initial. She looked upon the text she had written and decided to fold it up and place it within the pages of the book she had on the desk. For now, she will not send the letter.

Ardeth had given her the address if she ever_ needed_ him. And in this moment she didn't need him per se, she just…wanted him. Earlier when she had heard that sound and felt completely helpless, and when she had wanted to talk to somebody about it. She knew that the person she wanted to talk to was Ardeth.

* * *

Elizabeth sighed, watching her father scribble down notes with excessive fervor on the chalk board in his study. He had called her in to help him brainstorm for his newest novel but hadn't spoken to her in nearly thirty minutes, lost in a sudden thought he's been scribbling out like a madman since 5pm.

Slowly with each passing minute she sunk lower and lower into the couch, her eyes drifting open and closed slowly. A gentle breeze filtered through the open window and pushed Elizabeth's relaxation to a new level. Her eyes shut with a deep breath and she drifted off, steeping into unconsciousness like a cup of tea.

"Elizabeth!" She suddenly heard her father screech, and awake she jolted with thirty seconds of a nap behind her. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, "Elizabeth are you even listening?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then what did I last say?"

Quickly Elizabeth looked wildly at the chalkboard and saw a few bubbles of writing at his hand.

"You were talking about your character's war history, and his love interest." She guessed, but feigned confidence.

Ernest narrowed his eyes but nodded, "Yes, and what do you think?"

She paused, considering—groggy even from her thirty seconds of unconsciousness.

"I do not think your characters should have love interests."

"Why is that?" He asked after considerable thought. Elizabeth shrugged and stood, picking up a book from the shelf and flipping through it.

"Well, are you writing a love story?"

"Well, no."

"Then why focus on love? If you want to write about two men who explore the similarities and differences in their lives and careers, you'd be much better off having them be each other's love interests than distracting from the plot with outside loves." She rattled off thoughtlessly, plopping herself back on the couch. Her father stood there like she had just smacked him in the face, blinking slowly.

"You need to write a book, Elizabeth." He turned back to the chalk board to erase a bit of text. "You think so logically, so practically—"

"Maybe someday." Elizabeth laughed, "Before I do that though, I should probably look for a job in a hospital." Her father hummed, then jumped up.

"That reminds me!" He dug through one of his drawers and pulled out a couple of small bits of paper. "Guess who is visiting the Saint Bart's surgery school tomorrow to research and observe Doctor Lawrence Crowden?"

"Oh my, dad, he's the greatest surgeon in London, that's amazing." Elizabeth sat up straight.

"Mmhmm, and guess who has an extra ticket?"

Elizabeth's eyes got wide and she jumped up. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am darling—what, did you think I was going to take your brother?" Elizabeth hugged her father happily.

"I am so excited, this is exactly what I need!" Elizabeth said happily. This is the perfect thing to get her back into the medical world. And if she was being honest, the perfect thing to distract her from the constant habit her thoughts seemed to take up in the last two weeks—she could not forget the desert. Every moment of everyday was filled with the thought of returning and everything she wanted to tell Ardeth about their time apart.

"Are you ready for your dinner tonight?" Her father asked and she immediately groaned, pulled out of her minor reverie.

"Don't remind me." She huffed herself back onto the couch.

"Aw, Lizzy, be optimistic." Elizabeth could not tell if her father was joking or not.

"I am, I just know nothing will come of it." She sighed, looking at her fingers.

"Why is that?" Her father eyed her suspiciously. "Is there someone else? Someone you met in the war?"

"What? No, of course not." She pushed his question aside like it was nothing, "It is just not the time."

Ernest hummed again and turned back to his board.

"Give it a chance, darling. You might surprise yourself." He said honestly but Elizabeth sighed, stress building up in her stomach.

"I will give it one chance." Her father chuckled at her and poured two glasses of bourbon.

"When is this Graham picking you up?"

"Seven, apparently." She sipped. Ernest looked at his watch and spoke into his glass.

"It's fifteen to seven, Elizabeth." Her eyes shot to his watch and her stomach froze.

"Oh god, what am I going to wear?"

"Darling, you know that I cannot help you with that." Ernest laughed and downed the rest of his whiskey. Elizabeth jumped up and rushed up the stairs.

In her closet she had her clothing issued to her from the military hung up next to dresses and pantsuits she wore as a student in Cambridge. She quickly slipped on a pair of pants but unfortunately there was about a three inch gap between the waist band and her actual waist. It looks as though despite her love for it, the desert life did not treat her too kindly.

Suddenly a knock on the door downstairs froze her. "Damn, he's early." She said to herself.

Quickly she settled on a green wool dress and cinched the too big waist with the belt she was issued in the army. She checked her hair, pulling she stray bits back behind her ears and headed for the door.

Her hand paused on the handle though as she spotted the black linen wrap hung up on the outside of her wardrobe. She should wear it? Dare she betray her aunt's suggestion only to have Ardeth with her, so she may have the confidence to pretend she is interested in this man, a man who is not a warrior of the sand?

Without another thought she grabbed the piece and wrapped it around her neck.

Downstairs she saw her father chatting with a tall man with mousy brown hair and a very nice suit on. Immediately she felt underdressed. But once she reached the bottom he looked at her and his eyes went wide.

"H—hello." Graham reached a hand out. "You must be Elizabeth."

"Yes I am, you must be Graham." She shook his hand, which was quite clammy in her opinion.

"Alright, Mr. Collins, have her home by midnight." Ernest clapped Graham on the back with so much force he struggled not to stumble. Elizabeth in turn struggled to hide her smirk.

"Yes sir." Graham nodded and began for the door.

"Have a good time, darling." Ernest kissed her forehead, "And remember give it a chance."

"I will see you tonight, dad." And with that she followed Graham out of her door, swallowing her fear and clutching the ends of the wrap closer to her body.

* * *

**_That's it for now everyone! I truly hope you enjoy! And don't worry, our dear Ardeth will make an appearance very soon! Please let me know what you think in a review!_**


	13. Chapter 13

"So what is it you do, Elizabeth?" Graham asked her after he had ordered a bottle of wine for the table; any other time she would be rather irritated that he ordered the bottle without even asking her what she liked, but it was alcohol and in this moment she liked all alcohol.

"I'm a doctor." She said honestly.

"A nurse, you mean? Your aunt told me only a little about you but was very specific about that."

She clinched her jaw and took a big sip of the far too sweet chardonnay, "No, she was mistaken, I am a doctor. I went to Cambridge."

"Oh, well, that's nice." Graham straightened his tie and adjusted himself in his chair. It was as though he was compensating for a minor lapse in confidence. Elizabeth knew this intimidates some people but she must be true to at least one aspect of herself. "What do you specialize in?"

"Surgery. In the wa—" She paused, remembering her aunt telling her not to mention the war. "I work in a hospital, emergency type."

Graham nodded, "I bet that's exciting, messy though isn't it?"

"Yes it is…" There was a long pause before Elizabeth spoke up again, changing the subject, "So, you're a teacher? What do you teach?"

"I teach history and English at Saint Mary's grammar school in North London." Elizabeth nodded and took another gulp of wine.

"That's um—that's very interesting." God how could she ever have anything in common with this man?

"Certainly not as exciting as working in a hospital, as dangerous as that is. You must be sick all of the time." The waiter approached the table and Graham immediately spoke up. "Yes, I will have the veal and the lady will have the rabbit. Thank you."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open as the waiter walked away. "I hate rabbit." She said to herself as Graham poured himself another glass of wine.

Her jaw still clinched but she sucked in a deep breath. Just give it a chance, Elizabeth. Just give it a chance, she told herself. If the next thing he says is interesting enough to carry on the conversation then she will stay.

"So do you have any siblings?" He asked and she sighed.

"Just one brother; Charlie."

"And what does he do?"

"He's a writer, he writes for the Daily London."

"Oh, I read that paper every morning, how exciting." Graham smiled and Elizabeth finished off her second glass.

"Yes, very wonderful actually." She got a bit excited then, finally she might have a way to converse with this man. "He just wrote an article on the war that I found very interesting."

"So he's a writer just like your dad, what does your mum do?" Graham ignored her urge for conversation. And of course he had to ask her _that_ question.

"My mother…" She paused, looking at the fork on the table. Suddenly she remembered the first time she ate rice with her fingers in Egypt. Fingers were very practical utensils, not just for surgery. She missed learning and understanding new customs—the ways in which other cultures worked just slightly different than England intrigued her endlessly. She remembered how excited she was to lick her fingers clean and how accepted that act was. "My mother died ten years ago. But um…she was a doctor as well. She treated children." Elizabeth sighed as their food arrived.

"And how did she die? If you don't mind me asking." Graham said seconds before he dug into his veal. Elizabeth just looked at her rabbit, covered in gravy with a side of mashed peas. She couldn't eat this with her fingers.

"She…she died very suddenly. A robbery gone wrong—they stabbed her in the stomach right outside our house and took her bag. There was only paperwork in her bag so they murdered her for nothing…I um, I was the one who found her."

"Wow. You were what, fourteen, fifteen? Too bad you weren't a doctor yet, you could've saved her." Elizabeth clutched her fork and stuck it into her mashed peas and took a reluctant bite.

"Yes, too bad."

Suddenly a loud roar of laughter rose from the bar. Elizabeth looked over to see a group of four men smiling over pints of beer, shoving each other jokingly. She recognized the patches on their jackets. Ground infantry veterans. She smiled at their happiness, wishing she could join them. At least she would have one thing in common with them.

"God, what brutes. They come back from war and have forgotten all their manners. We're in a very nice restaurant for god's sakes." Graham sneered at them and Elizabeth suddenly lost a bit of control.

"They are just having fun, Graham. The war took serious tolls, it's okay to joke a little. Happiness is rare—"

"Yes but it doesn't give them any excuse to be inappropriate. Besides, how would you know?"

Elizabeth dropped her fork loudly, garnering the attention of a few tables and the men at the bar. She stood up with the sudden burst of emotion. This, this was losing control.

"You know what, Graham, I will tell you how I know. I was in the war, stationed with the 107th in Africa for four years as one of the only field surgeons in Ghana. I've been shot, stabbed, starved, dehydrated, lost, alone for four fucking years and you—you! You wouldn't know what that's like because you skimped out, you took your flat fucking feet and remained a coward while brave men and women gave up their lives to fight for your right to eat that overcooked veal and drink that shit chardonnay.

"I fought for your right to sit there and act like you're a grown man who orders for his women but you are a damn child who doesn't understand a thing. You wouldn't know what it's like to watch someone you love die in your arms because of war. _Because of fucking war_. So consider what you say to someone before you know their full story. You would do well with a lesson in kindness before you have someone's aunt force them into another dinner with you.

"And better yet, keep your opinions to yourself because these men right here already have a better chance with someone like me because at least I know they won't judge people trying to relax and have a little bit of fun." She breathed out and watched his face turn to anger but she didn't care. She picked up her bag and downed the last bit of the wine in her glass. "And if there's anything drier or more tasteless than your personality it's rabbit. I absolutely, fucking hate rabbit."

With that Elizabeth walked away from the table and out of the door. She touched her wrap and sighed. Her blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels and her ears rang. She knew that what she did was very inappropriate and she was likely to hear about it from her aunt but she didn't care. The cool evening air brought some kind of calmness to her thoughts.

"Hey! Hey! Wait up!" Elizabeth sighed hearing someone behind her.

"Leave me alone, Graham." She said loudly.

"I'm not Graham." She turned around to see one of the men from the bar with his three friends behind him. He handed her a bottle of whiskey, "We just wanted to thank ya, for your words back there. You really fought in Africa?"

She grabbed the bottle with a small smile, "Yes I did."

"We commend ya then, we were only in France but we heard Africa had the most brutal battles." He said, nodding to her. The wind caught a chill in her bones but she smiled.

"It was rough, I will say. But I'd do it again."

"Aye, us as well." One of the other's spoke from behind.

"My name's Elizabeth." She shook hands with all of them.

"Richard. This is Mark, David, and Benny."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all." She smiled honestly, eying the bottle of whiskey in her hand. "Say, since my night has been sufficiently ruined but subsequently made by this very generous gift—would you all care to enjoy it with me?"

"We were hopin' you'd ask us that." Benny, obviously from Liverpool, said and she laughed.

The crew ended up at pub not to far from her home, where they shared war stories with one another until nearly two in the morning. It was nice talking to people who had experiences that mirrored her own. So enjoyable it was almost painful to leave them when she grew weary and tired.

Elizabeth walked down her street alone, humming to herself and attempting to walk in a relatively straight line without stumbling. She was, for lack of a better word, drunk off her ass. When she arrived home she struggled with opening the front door and laughed to herself.

It had been a long time since she was filled with this much joy, artificial or not.

When she walked in she spied her father in his study writing madly. Slowly she tried to tiptoe past the doorway.

"Must've had fun with Graham if you're coming back this late." Ernest said without looking up from his paper.

Elizabeth cursed herself, "No, actually I left him around eight."

"Poor bloke only lasted an hour, huh?" Ernest laughed. "I can smell you from over here, you didn't get drunk by yourself did you?"

"No actually I met some very kind men who bought me a bottle of whiskey. They fought in the war too." Elizabeth paused, feeling the floor beneath her shift—making her dizzy.

"Well did you have fun at least?" Ernest smirked at her grasp for the doorway to steady herself.

"Yes I did actually." She thought herself rather successful at making it seem like she was less drunk than she was.

"Good. Now go to bed, we have a very important outing tomorrow!"

Elizabeth nodded, yawning. "You didn't stay up waiting for me, did you?"

"No, don't be silly. I'm just writing." He said softly, standing.

"Do you ever sleep?" She chuckled through the buzz of her intoxication.

"No," he smiled sadly, "Not since your mother died."

Elizabeth felt a gush of emotion flow through her and she quickly ran to her father's chest.

"Oof." He reacted but hugged her quickly in return. "Come on now, let's get you to bed. I don't like it when only one of us is drunk." Elizabeth chuckled.

"No, it's okay. I can sleep right here. I feel better sleeping right here." She moved to the couch and plopped down on it. The thought of going up stairs nearly made her puke.

Ernest threw a blanket over her haphazardly and went back to writing.

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up you two, I have breakfast ready in the den!" Elsa screeched from the hallway and both Elizabeth and Ernest jumped up. Her father had fallen asleep at his desk, his head had rested on a stack of books as makeshift pillows. Elizabeth groaned.

"Oh my god I feel terrible." She pulled the blanket up over her head and closed her eyes again. Slowly but surely the two Whitmores made their way to the den where Elsa had prepared coffee, toast, eggs, and two pomegranates.

Elizabeth eased herself to the chair, mesmerized by the bright redness of the pomegranate seeds.

"What a lovely choice, Elsa. You know Persephone was tricked into eating pomegranate seeds by Hades—the food of the underworld." Ernest said, digging into his toast. Elizabeth smirked, picking up the fruit and plucking seeds out of it. The taste of them sent her mind reeling.

_"These are pomegranates, have you ever had one?" Ardeth asked her, plucking one from a tree in a small oasis they found between Hamunaptra and camp. Elizabeth smiled. _

_"Yes I have. I used to eat them all the time when I could find them as a child. Always had trouble figuring out the best way to get the seeds out though." Elizabeth smiled as he tossed her one. _

_"Let me show you how I do it." Ardeth sat in the sand and she followed, sitting in front of him—much like they always sat. He began making small cuts in the outer pink skin of the fruit. "Do you know what this fruit means to my culture?"_

_She looked up from the fruit to his eyes, "No I do not. Will you tell me?"_

_He nodded, returning his eyes to the fruit. "In my culture pomegranates symbolize beauty and carry energy with them. Women who are pregnant often eat them if they want to have beautiful children, warriors eat them in hopes they will be protected and return home. There are many meanings attached to this single fruit but I like to focus on the beauty. I think it is quite interesting how such a simple looking fruit can be so complex on the inside—much like beautiful people can be." _

_Elizabeth smiled as he peeled the fruit open perfectly and handed it to her. She popped a few seeds into her mouth and nearly died at the flavor. _

_"The taste is beautiful as well." She smiled, moving ever so slightly closer to Ardeth in the sand. She loved to be close to him, feelings of safety and calm resonated within her when she was near him. She hoped that he felt the same. "I've read about the health benefits of these seeds, I think you and your tribe should include them in your daily meals. Helps with the heart and full of hard to find nutrients."_

_Ardeth nodded, "We will try to eat them as much as possible then." _

_"Good," she smiled again and popped a few more into her mouth. The air around them caught a deep gust of wind, pulling up sand with it. Ardeth quickly moved to shield her from the sand, covering the both of them with a bit of his robes. He was closer to her than ever before, with still a bit of distance. A respectful amount of distance. "Thank you, Ardeth."_

_"Of course…" He paused, fixing a loose strand of her hands—placing it behind her ear. "Sand in the eyes can often be very painful." She smirked at his unattached words and leaned closer to him. _

_The beauty of this moment was simple at best. Elizabeth and Ardeth shared pomegranates that afternoon and by the end of the day—a day full of quiet conversations, sneaking glances, and small, unobtrusive touches—was when Elizabeth knew that she was completely in love with Ardeth Bay._

* * *

_**More to come soon! Let me know what you think!**_


	14. Chapter 14

Elizabeth struggled to keep up with her father's wide strides down the street. She was excited but nervous. Lawrence Crowden was the most successful surgeon in all of London, she was excited to watch him work—but nervous at the thought that she might not be a good as she once thought she was. In it all, Elizabeth was preparing herself to be quite humbled in her abilities.

When they arrived at the hospital they were ushered into the lecture hall. A few men took note of her father's presence and struck up conversation while ignoring her completely. She was used to that though; being underestimated by men.

All the men in attendance were young doctors and students, seated around a small space which held Doctor Crowden and an unconscious patient. Tumor-removal surgery. Fairly simple procedure, Elizabeth thought. And as he began she wondered why he chose such a simple surgery, and why was he going so slow?

Perhaps it was to show every step clearly. Yes, that must be it. An hour had past, her father's notebook was filled to the brim with notes. Elizabeth couldn't help but slouch in her seat from boredom and she wondered how much longer this would take.

Suddenly she was faced with the realization that this is what her life would be. Routine surgeries after routine surgeries. How incredibly dull. Of course she'd be saving lives but what would she be doing to her own life?

Another hour passed and the surgery was finally finished. But not a second after the nurses wheeled the patient out of the door, another doctor rushed in out of breath.

"Dr. Crowden, we have a gun shot victim, can you assist?" Elizabeth sat up in her seat and watched Dr. Crowden smile nervously, glancing at the audience in equal restlessness. The pressure was on him now.

"Why of course, bring him in!" The doctor sprinted out and back in with two nurses pushed a rickety cart with a young woman covered in blood upon it surface.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat and she watched with sweaty palms. Dr. Crowden looked at the woman and immediately went to work. From what Elizabeth could tell she was shot in the lower stomach, just to the right. She was bleeding profusely and Elizabeth began to get worried.

Was he going to attempt to clot the blood first? The woman howled in pain and Elizabeth's heart rate sky-rocketed. Did they not administer an anesthesia or morphine?

"Lizzy, are you okay? You're a little squirmy." Ernest asked her, his hand on her back—mostly in an attempt to settle her movements.

"I don't think he knows what he's doing. He hasn't even begun to clean the wound. This girl is—dying." She whispered back, unable to tear her eyes away.

"Then say something, Lizzy. You're a doctor."

"No, he should know what he's doing. He'll get to it."

The doctor then grabbed a pair of long, wide tipped tweezers and started to dig into the wound. Suddenly Elizabeth jumped up.

"Stop! Do you know what you're doing?" She yelled desperately. Quickly she rushed down the steps to the edge of the platform. "If you use tweezers that large you will damage her fallopian lining and run the risk of a bleed out which you will not be able to control. At the very least you will destroy any chance she may still have of having a child."

She was breathless as Dr. Crowden stared at her in bewilderment. This was it, the emotion took complete control—she no longer could stop her instinct.

He gave her an incredulous and sarcastic look, "What do you suggest then Miss…"

"Elizabeth," She pushed herself over the barrier and began washing her hands, "Doctor Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore. And my suggestion is that you back away from this woman as far as possible because you obviously don't know what you are doing. Excuse me."

Without another thought Elizabeth grabbed iodine and gauze and began to clean the wound. She rummaged through the utensils tray quickly, grabbing a small needle as she kept pressure on the wound.

"Where is your morphine?" She asked.

Dr. Crowden ran out then back in quickly. Elizabeth administered a small dose of morphine into her arm and waited for the woman to calm. When she did Elizabeth grabbed a small scalpel.

"What is…what is it you're doing?" She looked up at Dr. Crowden and spied genuine curiosity. Did he really not know how to treat a bullet wound?

"I'm using the scalpel to make a larger incision to help me when I ease the bullet out. I'm assuming the person that shot her was much taller judging by the angle of the bullet which I can still see. Because it came in at a downward angle I will make an incision at the top of the wound—and pull it out upwards." Elizabeth cut into the skin very carefully. Then she grabbed the thinnest tweezers she could find and began to remove the bullet. With a few gentle twists and the slightest bit of pressure she pulled the very tiny bullet out with ease. She remembered that sometimes the smallest bullets can cause the most damage. She quickly assessed the inside and didn't see any shrapnel nor any excess bleeding. Satisfied she set the tweezers aside. "Needle and stitching?"

Dr. Crowden handed the items to her immediately. In less than three minutes she had the wound stitched and bandaged. She placed a wet cloth on the woman's head and tested her heart rate.

"She is running a mild fever, but that should dissipate when the morphine wears off." Dr. Crowden looked at her in amazement as he checked his watch. A cough from the audience brought his attention back and he addressed them.

"That will be all gentlemen, thank you and I hope you all learned something today." With that the men began to leave. Ernest quickly ran down and jumped over the barrier and enveloped his daughter in a hug.

"That was incredible, Elizabeth. I had no idea you could work that way." He said excitedly, a sense of deep pride in his voice.

"Came with the territory really." She chuckled, brushing his compliment off.

"It was amazing, thank you for taking the initiative." Dr. Crowden shook her hand. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Doctor Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore."

"Well Doctor Bender-Whitmore, I am very impressed with you and your work, but specifically you. Would you do the honors of joining me for a drink this evening?" Elizabeth's eyes widened and she felt her words leave her.

Sure this man was handsome enough but did she really want to get a drink with a doctor that didn't know how to remove a bullet from a woman's stomach? A doctor who performed a surgery in two hours what should have taken him 45 minutes? No, no she did not.

"No, I am sorry but I have plans."

"Tomorrow then?"

Elizabeth took her father's arm and began walking away.

"Busy then too, I'm afraid." With that they left the lecture hall and Ernest narrowed his eyes at his daughter. She looked away as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Elizabeth—" He started but she immediately interrupted him.

"I'm hungry, can we stop at this cafe?" She pointed to the restaurant across the street. Ernest nodded and the sat on the patio.

While they smoked and drank their tea her father watched her with a keen look in his eye.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, unable to ignore the look any longer.

"Why did you turn Dr. Crowden down? The man's a millionaire, he practically owns that hospital, you know that right?" Her father spoke honestly, curious more than anything, and without judgement.

"Yes I do know that but I just don't think I could be with a surgeon who cannot perform a simple surgery in an adequate amount of time. He would have killed that woman if he kept going the way he did."

"Yes, I understand that darling, but you could help him—teach him the skills necessary—"

"Please, dad, you think a man like that would let a woman like me teach him tactics that were different than what he was taught? I know men like him and they're all the same. I know that everything I did in that lecture hall will be completely ignored by him the next time he must perform a surgery like that. You saw him after that, no concern for the fact that I have just saved a woman's life that he nearly killed. Do you think he really wanted to take me out for a drink so we could talk about our philosophies as medical professionals? So…that's why." She took a long sip of tea and a long drag of her cigarette.

"So it's not because of this_ A_ fella you write to, is it?" Ernest asked after several long moments and Elizabeth's blood ran cold.

"What?" She feigned confusion. How did he know? She'd never spoken a word about Ardeth out loud, how?

"Don't act stupid Lizzy," he said gently, "You left the letter on my desk, darling. Our handwriting looks exactly the same—I thought it was something I had written. I read it, quickly realized I did not write it. So who is it?"

"Dad…" Elizabeth held her head in her hands and sighed.

"Is it a soldier you helped in the war? Someone you went to school with?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Ardeth is…"

"Ardeth? Lizzy don't tell me you've fallen in love with some local." Her father joked but then she looked at him with a mildly pained look in her eye and immediately he knew he'd hit the nail right on the head. "Oh, well okay then. Lizzy that's great, really." He spoke honestly and tried to look her in the eye but she refused.

"It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Shut your mouth, you are not stupid. Why do you think that?"

Elizabeth sighed, "Because I let myself fall in love with a man who lives thousands of miles away, a man who I don't know if I'll ever be able to see again and it's killing me everyday. I've written so many letters to him but I have not sent a single one because they will never be perfect enough. And I am here in this ridiculous city struggling to figure out where I fit in when all I want to do is return to Egypt and start my own clinic where I can help people who don't have the resources the English have here and actually make a damn difference. Actually do something with my life."

She clapped a hand over her mouth slowly and her eyes widened. Had she really just said that, had she really just admitted what has been in her heart this entire time?

Her father's eyebrows raised in a resulting expression she'd never seen from him before.

Then, he sighed. "I'd be blind to not see how unhappy you are here, Lizzy. And it pains me. I was hoping it was just the sudden change and the war and everything all mixed into one but…" He reached across the table to enveloped her hands in his. "It's very obvious to me that you have something special and you love it so much you're willing to devote your whole life to it. It's why you've been dodging every interaction with someone other than me or brother. Your mother was exactly the same. I see so much of her in you. If this is what you want to do…then I am in no position to stop you. Certainly couldn't with your mother." He laughed to himself.

"Dad, I just…" She paused, trying to figure out the exact words she was trying to say, "When the war ended, quite literally the moment we found out the war was over the Germans bombed our camp and my assistant and I fled into the desert. We walked for days and days until we stumbled upon a very…tricky situation. I met Ardeth and his tribe, I took care of a man named Abdal who had been shot and was dying. They trusted me completely to take care of him, even though I didn't speak or understand their language, even though I am a woman. I fell in love with the desert while I was there and I truly felt like I had a purpose, more purpose than I ever felt before. I felt…accepted."

"Lizzy, you don't have to convince me. I'm already on your side. I will miss you terribly and will have to visit you at least three to four times a year." He smiled as a bright grin spread across Elizabeth's face. "Maybe five times. So you'll need a place with at least two bedrooms."

"Oh, that won't be an issue." Elizabeth spoke before she had a second to think.

"Oh really? Do you already have a place in mind?"

"I do. It needs some work definitely but it's nearly perfect." Elizabeth sipped her tea as her father clapped his hands together with finality.

"That's great!" He said with much gusto, "Where do we start?"

* * *

_**That's it for now folks! Please continue to favorite and review, your words truly mean the world to me and keep me writing!**_


	15. Chapter 15

Elizabeth walked down the River Thames the evening before she planned to leave London for good. It was just past dusk and there were other couples walking around her. And it was raining just slightly, a soft mist in the air.

Her aunt had told her that rain meant good luck during important life events. Though she had been referring to a wedding at the time, Elizabeth thought best to imagine she meant this moment, when she was fully committed to leaving this place for good—that her decision was cleansed and her future was clear.

She clutched the wrap around her body, smelling the last little of Ardeth it still held. Though now it mostly just smelled of sand and tobacco from her father's pipe. She still felt him. And soon enough, she would see him.

Elizabeth paused, leaning against the stone bridge that overlooked the river and the city that surrounded it so quaintly. London was quiet at night, in most places, some places were loud and exciting and far too much for her to handle—but she still appreciated them.

She wondered then if Ardeth was standing next to her, what he would think.

She imagined him saying something along the lines of every city being beautiful, but nothing could compare to Egypt—to the desert. And she couldn't help but agree with the hypothetical Ardeth's thoughts. Nothing could compare.

For a moment her eyes closed and she was transported back to the desert. She could hear the wind billowing in her ears, bits of sand getting stuck in her hair, and her neck beating with sweat from the heat.

God, she couldn't wait to wear linen again. Wool was getting quite uncomfortable, as much as she did appreciate its warmth.

"Elizabeth!" She heard her brother yell from down the road. He ran up to her quickly. "Thought that was you—you got pretty far away from us." Charlie spoke, referring to their family walk earlier. They'd had dinner at a cafe not too far from here and went on an evening walk together—the three of them. Her father had stopped to chat with a few fellas and she continued on, thus getting lost in her thoughts and her feet.

"Were you worried about me, Charlie?"

"I'll always be worried about you, Lizzy. Though I know there's no reason to, you've always been the strong one." He wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's neck and looked out onto the river along side her.

"Oh, Charlie, it's quite the opposite. You and dad are the strengths in my life. I know you'll always be there for me."

"You're damn right, sis." He said, hugging her tighter. A silence feel upon them as they looked upon the city. "You sure you want to leave a beautiful sight like this?"

Elizabeth chuckled, "Egypt has a river too, you know. It is fairly famous too. It's called the Nile."

"Nonsense. No river as great as the Thames." Charlie said, dismissing her comment completely. But yet Elizabeth smiled.

"When you come to visit me, you'll see. It's truly breath-taking. _Muthir_." She muttered the last bit under her breath and leaned against Charlie's shoulder.

"You ready for this, old girl?" He asked.

"I've never been more ready for anything in my life, Charlie."

"Good." He kissed her forehead hesitantly before sighing. Elizabeth could tell he wanted to say something but he stopped. They were quiet for some time before they heard their father step up to them.

Ernest slipped a cigarette between his lips and he lit it. He blew a cloud of smoke that clouded their view of the river, but the smell was more comforting than anything.

"You two children ready to get home? Lizzy has a long trip ahead of her tomorrow."

Elizabeth looked away from the river, who's surface reflected the twinkling lights of the stars.

"Yes, I think I'm ready. How about you, Charlie?"

"Yeah, I believe so."

The three walked down the road in silence.

"Will you tell Aunt Meredith I've left, right dad?" Elizabeth asked after a moment.

Ernest sighed and looked at her, "After her reaction to what you pulled with that boy she set you up with I'd be better off telling her you drowned in the Thames." He laughed loudly to himself and Elizabeth smiled proudly to herself.

She will miss it here, certainly. But just as certain as she will miss parts of England, she couldn't wait to put an ocean and an entire continent between her and the bigotry of the people here.

* * *

Ardeth Bay, clad in his typical black robes and headdress, strode through the busy streets of Cairo on a particularly cool afternoon. It was still hot but considerably less than it had been in the past week. He could smell the spices in the air, and the gentle heat—yes the heat did indeed have a smell here. A mixture of pleasant and not so pleasant scents for certain.

The chill in the air was a welcome change.

He was in Cairo on important business, connecting with Doctor Terence Bey of the Cairo Museum of Antiquities and a Medjai himself—making him the main point of contact for the tribe in the city. Dr. Bey had called upon Ardeth earlier in the week with an urgent message.

Just outside of the Museum entrance Ardeth paused nearly dead in his tracks as he looked at a group of people surrounding the entrance of the market, and a woman that weaved her way into the group with a large basket of vegetables. He thought it had been—no it could not have been. It could not have been her.

It had been months since Elizabeth had left Egypt and she would have no reason now to return. Ardeth stared at the market for just a few moments longer, letting the feeling linger. The fleeting feeling of having thought he'd seen her, and what that feeling meant.

Months now he had come to terms with losing her and months now not a day had past where he did not think of her. Nor did a day passed where something did not remind him of her; a breeze in the air, a smell of jasmine, drinking coffee, finding sand in his boots…it all reminded him of her. But he was recovering, everyday was easier to grow because her departure did not leave him with pain—just with longing. And longing was better than pain because longing had hope. Hope that she would return someday.

Ardeth walked up the steps to the museum, through the long hallways until he reached Dr. Bey's office. He knocked once and was let in.

"Pleasure to see you again, Chieftain Bay. How has everything been?" Terence greeted him, ushering him into his fairly warm office space. The man had not changed since Ardeth had first met him as a boy—beard now greying, suit and vest, bright red fez to complete the look.

"Very well, quiet though, which is unusual. I have doubled our watches for the time being just in case." Ardeth responded, watching Terence shuffle around his desk, "What was this urgent matter you needed to speak with me?"

"Yes, here it is." He extended his arm with a small bit of paper to Ardeth. "I received this earlier this week, addressed to you, and thought you should see it right away. Sounds like a threat to me."

Ardeth took the note and unfolded it. In rather rudimentary Arabic the note went as follows: _"Meet me in the evening at sundown at this address. Come alone." _Ardeth narrowed his eyes, the address was someone near Giza Port and the message did indeed seem sinister in nature.

"I will investigate further, thank you Terence." Ardeth pushed the fear to the back of his mind and left quickly. Sundown was just a few hours away.

* * *

As the sun's light sifted through the great structures of the pyramids, the day coming closer to an end Ardeth made his way to the address on the paper. He was prepared, but not overly prepared. Sword at his side, knives at his ankles and in his robes. Cautious lest this meeting turn to what he predicted as sinister.

The closer Ardeth came upon the building the more anxious he became. The clay building was large and dark from the outside, the sunset casted just enough light for Ardeth to reach the door. Slowly he walked in, unsheathing his sword quietly.

The main space in the building was empty, save for some construction materials like bricks and planks of wood—some scattered tools here and there. He scanned the space slowly, taking calculated steps.

Suddenly he heard some rustling and a door creaked open loudly in the back. The sounds of cicadas filled the space and echoed off the walls. Someone had entered the room in the back from a back door. Some more rustling and a soft voice suddenly appeared. Ardeth narrowed his eyes in confusion, if this was some type of trap then they were not being very smart about it.

Slowly he stepped forward, walking along the walls. Suddenly the person entered the main space, the voice turned to humming and echoed off walls like the cicadas. Ardeth recognized the humming. It couldn't be…

"Elizabeth?" He lowed his sword as she gasped and turned around.

"Oh—Ardeth, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Elizabeth smiled and set the crate she had carried in down on the ground.

"Elizabeth…?" He asked again slowly, stepping toward her. He looked at her as though he were in a dream, moving slowly with suspicious eyes.

"I see you received my message." She smiled brightly and Ardeth nearly dropped his sword. Elizabeth looked down at it then back up again, "Oh no, did something happen?"

"The message, it seemed…" He watched her expression turn from happiness to worry in a split second.

"Oh—oh my god, I am so sorry." She walked across the space closer to him, stress on her brow. "I can see now how badly a message like that could be interpreted. Please forgive me."

Ardeth looked into her eyes and blinked his own rapidly. Could he actually be dreaming? It wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamt of her, but this just seemed all too real. She looked at him with bated breath, wild green eyes searching him for any hint of connection. Suddenly Ardeth found it incredibly difficult to keep himself from running toward her. But he did, exhibiting an enormous amount of strength.

"It is alright—but what are you doing in a dirty, abandoned building in Cairo?" He finally asked.

"That'll be _my _dirty and abandoned building in Cairo, you mean." She smiled a cheeky smile—a proud smile—and picked the crate up again.

"What—what do you mean?" He followed her to the back of the space through the door into a room lit by candles, the walls filled with muted colored tiles from floor to ceiling. She set the crate on a small table and turned back to him.

"I bought it." Elizabeth said simply, watching his every expression. Ardeth looked at her with wonder, all words escaping him other than:

"Why did you do this?" Elizabeth looked at him slightly hurt when he said these words, and took a conscious step back from him.

"I tried England. I really did but…I couldn't ignore it. The call for this place, the call to come back here and do something good." She suddenly jumped, her expression changed from thoughtful to determined, and led him back out to the front of the building. "I'm surprised you didn't see it."

She pointed to a wooden placard next to the front door that read in both English and Arabic: _"Dr. Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore. Treating sickness and ailments of families, women and children, warriors and soldiers." _And below it a symbol of the Medjai that he had told her only briefly of months ago.

"Elizabeth…I don't…I don't have any words…"

"That's okay, as long as they aren't behind any bad thoughts." She said hopefully. Ardeth looked at her then, leaning against the wall in this building watching him. She was dressed as he remembered her on their last day together, linen pants and tunic with his wrap secured around her neck. Her feet were bare—covered in dirt and dust but some how seemed elegant and her hair was longer and more unkempt than he would have expected—but natural and free. The waves were intoxicating, framing her face. They looked soft, but much like he could get lost in them if he wandered near.

"No, nothing bad at all…this was just…the last thing I expected to happen today." He smiled softly as she stepped closer her him, just close enough so he could smell her in the air. Jasmine and eucalyptus.

"I missed you, Ardeth. A single day did not go by without thinking of you. I must have written a thousand letters to you that I did not send." She said honestly, looking at her feet.

"Why did you not send them?" He questioned.

"Because, they were…unimportant. I didn't want to bother you with my…"

"With your what?" With each word exchanged they stepped closer to each other.

"It's just…I believe I developed a strong connection with you while I was here and I was worried that you didn't completely feel the same—I was worried that you were merely trying to get rid of me…or that you had forgotten me…"

Elizabeth's words faded to silence as Ardeth rested his hand on her cheek. Her breathing became rapid as she tried to hide her true emotions. But a tear fell down her cheek.

"I thought I would never see you again, Elizabeth." She closed her eyes at his words, more tears fell down her cheeks. Ardeth knew from his past experiences with her that every word that came from her mouth was always, and undoubtedly, the truth. Tonight seemed no different other than the fact that she was cautious and more nervous than he had ever seen her.

Slowly Ardeth rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushed against each other gently just like they did at Giza Port before she had left him. Her hands rested on his chest, one hand grasped his robes tightly. Ardeth felt his heart beat quicken feeling her touch.

"I don't think I could have lasted another second in England without you, Ardeth." He breathed out, as if he was holding his breath until she said his name. "Without seeing you, without touching you…" Her hand traced his jaw line slowly as Ardeth's hands fell to her back and her hips, pulling her closer to him. Decency be damned.

"Elizabeth…" Ardeth's eyes were closed as his head dipped to her hair, whispering into her ear. Their bodies touching, softly, quietly. Each moment the grasps on each other grew stronger and stronger. He wanted to say the words, but they stayed inside of him.

Elizabeth felt her chest rise and fall against his chest, she felt the action of her body breathing but could hardly tell if she was breathing at all. The space between was so small, hardly there. She breathed his scent in, musk and sand, the sensory memory overwhelmed her to the point of continued tears.

"Ardeth, I—I…" She breathed in and reevaluated her approach. "Ardeth, ana uhibbuka." She whispered to him without hesitation. She had practiced the words over and over again on the boat to Egypt, practiced so that when she said to the words to him, he would know exactly what she meant. I love you. Ardeth was silent, watching her eyes with fierce but calming happiness—contentedness if she'd ever seen it. So Elizabeth continued, "You once told me that to love is to compromise and make difficult choices. I know that you will never leave this place and I could never ask you to. Which is why I left my family, and my country. For myself…and for you."

"You left England, for me?"

Elizabeth smirked and touched his cheek, her other hand tracing the bullet belt that lined across his back. "Of course I did…"

"Laa yumkinu lilkalimati an tasifa hubbi laka." Ardeth responded and Elizabeth smiled, trying to word her translation skills through the long sentence. She noticed his small smile as she struggled to understand. "Words cannot describe how much I love you, Elizabeth."

Then before Elizabeth could say another word, Ardeth rested his lips upon hers. Softly, as though they were barely there for a moment. But with a soft moan from Elizabeth, Ardeth grasped her hips and held her closer, kissing her deeper than she'd ever been kissed. She tasted his lips, the hairs from his beard bristled her skin and her mind went wild.

Elizabeth let herself be pushed backward until she hit the wall, Ardeth caressed her cheeks as she draped her arms around his neck, her own neck straining. He was so much taller than she had remembered. Quickly he picked her up by her thighs and wrapped them around his waist, using the wall as leverage. Elizabeth giggled into their kisses and felt ethereal.

They separated only after the need to breathe was imminent. Their eyes both closed, foreheads together. She was at eye level now, her body pressed completely against his chest. Their haggard breathing turned into half smiles and chuckles, as Ardeth kissed her again briefly, and then again and again.

Slowly Elizabeth returned to her feet, her eyes memorizing the way the moon lit Ardeth's face. He watched her in equal delight, and anticipation.

Elizabeth rested both her hands on Ardeth's cheeks and seemed lost in wonder. How, after all this time—that by doing the gentle act they just did, did the words shared between them mean more than life itself?

That evening they laid together in her bed. Elizabeth had been in Cairo for several days now and had firstly repaired and restored the second floor to livable standards. She created a small office space, a kitchen, bathing room, and a bedroom. The furniture and decor was barely above the minimum but it was truly all she needed. In this moment she was thankful for only the bed and the sheets with which they both laid together, entangled in the most complicated ways.

Currently Ardeth was telling her about Hamunaptra, how things seemed to have shifted. "A change is in the winds," as Ardeth had put it.

"And you are worried?" Elizabeth questioned, concerned.

"I am trying not to worry too much, often times moments like these fade." Ardeth twisted a bit of her hair between his fingers, she in turn traced the scar on his chest—the wound she had treated months and months ago had healed perfectly.

"Well…I am here now if you need me. Here to heal and to fight—with the Medjai." Ardeth looked into her eyes like he always used to, searching for hesitation.

"You will be by my side?" He asked with a determined candor.

"Every moment, of every day." She responded quietly.

The earth spun below them, and they reacted without concern for anything but each other. Time be damned, whether it slowed or quickened to torture great moments—because every second Ardeth and Elizabeth spent together from now on would be worth all the world's fortunes, and all the time the past and the future had to offer, combined.

* * *

_**HOLY COW! THANK YOU ALL so so much for your continued support and comments! I truly love nothing more than hearing your thoughts and excitements, love nothing more except for perhaps our dear Ardeth. I went back and forth on how to write this chapter, even rewrote it twice but ultimately knew this was how it had to go. It was time. I truly hope you enjoyed, and as always let me know what you think!**_


	16. Chapter 16

Elizabeth woke slowly, her body waking before her eyes had the strength to open. She felt an arm around her waist, holding her tightly, and a soft breath on her neck. Ardeth.

It was something she had wanted for months, in wait of seeing him again while in England. There was always a part of her that had expected Ardeth to turn her down, citing her presumptuous move to Egypt far too much commitment for him. But here he was, and here she was, and they were together—their bodies softly touching and tangled beneath blankets.

Briefly she wondered if the two of them had crossed a line; sleeping together before marriage in her culture was quite frowned upon, not unheard of but frowned upon. In the war it was hard not to give into simple comforts, especially being one of very few women. She wondered what it was like in Ardeth's culture, the Medjai culture. Ardeth seemed to have no hesitations with the previous night's activities, for which she was thankful. Still she wondered.

Ardeth's arm around her tightened and she felt a soft kiss on her shoulder, a tickle from his beard.

"Why are you awake, habibti?" Ardeth said with a soft rumble from deep within his chest, yet it seemed to bloom like a whisper in her ear. Elizabeth smiled through her sleepiness and snuggled further into his chest.

"I used to dream about you while I was away…nearly every night, and it made me so happy even if I was feeling so terribly alone." She spoke into the pillow they shared. "And now it seems my dreams just aren't good enough because you are here. I may never sleep again."

Ardeth kissed her shoulder again and again, lowering the sheets and kissed further down the middle of her back. Elizabeth smiled and bit back a deep moan. Ardeth's hands traced the faint scars on her back, she could tell because they were more sensitive than the other parts of her skin.

"I'll always have a reminder of the war with me, a forever reminder of the horror of it." She said softly.

"I see it as a reminder of your bravery, your courage." He kissed each small scar caused by bomb shrapnel. Elizabeth's nerve endings were going nearly insane by the intimacy, chills rising through her whole body. Slowly she turned and faced him. He was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined in the morning light like this. Ardeth smiled softly and brushed her hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

"This still feels like a dream to me." Elizabeth whispered, positioning herself closer to his body.

"To me as well, Elizabeth." They kissed softly, the swelling sun's rays through the open windows were beginning to fill the room with a heavy heat. Slowly Elizabeth stretched and reached around the side of the bed for a robe. She slipped it on and flipped the oven on, she filled a kettle with water from a large pitcher and grabbed a bowl of grapes and a few other fruits for breakfast.

Elizabeth jumped back into bed with Ardeth and sat the bowl between them. Ardeth picked up the knife and cut into the single pomegranate in the bowl. She knew he would go for that one. She smiled between grapes and watched him pop the seeds into his mouth.

"How long will you be in Cairo?" Elizabeth asked, watching his reaction. He sighed.

"One or two more days." She nodded, a certain sadness welling inside of her. "When will you be ready to accept patients?"

"Not for another few weeks, I'm waiting on a shipment of supplies which will arrive in two weeks. In the meantime I wait, and build up what I can of this building."

"It is a fine building." Ardeth said, admiring the tiles on the walls and the wood frames around the windows. "Do you think you will be alright on your own in Cairo?"

"Do you think I cannot take care of myself, Mr. Bay?" She leaned closer to him, challenging.

"The opposite, actually. I know you can take care of yourself, probably more care than I could ever offer you. I mean…do you think you will be okay by yourself in this city?" She sighed when she realized what he was asking.

"I think I will be fine," she traced her fingers over his beard, so soft and textured. She nearly gushed at the perfect nature of it. As though Ardeth was born with this beard, then she smirked to herself at the thought—a baby with beard. "I wish I could see you everyday though."

"I wish the same, habibti. You know my duty is in the desert, but I will visit as often as I can. I will send my men here when they are injured or in bad health and I will try my best to be the one that accompanies them."

"I know you have your responsibilities. For now I am just happy to not have an entire continent between us…I miss the desert." Elizabeth said with a soft sigh.

"And the desert misses you. The winds howled relentlessly when you left and only just recently calmed. I am assuming they did so with your return to this land." Elizabeth's heart filled with earnest delight, seeing the depths of the sands in Ardeth's dark brown eyes.

"I will visit you whenever I can. Not for you though, but to see Abdal and the rest of the tribe, of course." Ardeth smiled and grabbed her arms, hauling her onto his chest. She yelped in surprised but settled happily into his hold.

"Everyone will be happy to see you, you truly left an impression on everyone in our tribe." Elizabeth smiled, and he touched her face as if he were memorizing each curve. "I wish you could come to the desert with me, stay with me. I know this is selfish of me."

"It isn't selfish, Ardeth. I wish for it too. But I also feel I can really make a difference here in the city." The kettle started to boil over and whistle.

"I know you will, Elizabeth." Ardeth spoke softly with enough confidence for the both of them.

Elizabeth poured herself and Ardeth a cup of black tea with a dash of cardamom sugar in the only two mugs she owned. Carefully she sat back onto the surface of the bed next to Ardeth.

"Thank you, habibti."

"What does that mean, _habibti_?"

"I thought you were working on your Arabic?" Ardeth smirked into his steaming mug. Elizabeth struggled not to roll her eyes.

"Yes well, I'm not exactly an expert yet, give me a bit of a break." Elizabeth laughed.

"This will be your word for today. Habibti; _my love_."

"Habibti…" Elizabeth's finger toyed with the warm rim of her mug as she considered the idea of being Ardeth's love. Her life had changed so drastically in the last year if for a moment she had thought about it, she was nearly unrecognizable to herself. Though this was not a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

Ardeth ran a hand through her hair.

"Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?"

"I lost you for a moment." He said honestly. Elizabeth internally shook herself from her thoughts.

"You'll never lose me." Her hand rested on top of his softly.

In that moment Elizabeth knew she would do good here, she knew it, especially with Ardeth's help.

* * *

_**Hi everyone! This is the last chapter of Grit and Pomegranate! I hope everyone enjoyed it and I want to thank everyone for your support through this entire year of writing. While this part may be over, I do have other things in the works and I cannot wait to share more of Ardeth and Elizabeth's next adventures with you! Stay tuned, lovelies! **_


	17. Author's Note

**Author's Note: **

**Hello lovelies! I just wanted to drop a note in here at the completion of Grit and Pomegranate to let you all know I've started on a sequel and the first two chapters are up! It's titled Earth and Linen and I'd love everyone's input on it so far! **

**Additionally I hope everyone is safe and calm right now in this wildly changing world right now. If only Elizabeth were here, then perhaps we'd all be in better shape. **

**Thank you again for all the love for this fic and for the continued love for Ardeth/Elizabeth. Hope to hear from you all soon. **

**Yours,**

**E**


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